CHAPTER I. THE CONSULTATION.
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“My dear,” said Mrs. Harley to her husband
one morning, “I have been thinking we
had better make a change in our domestic department.
Nancy, I find, is getting quite impertinent;
she wants to go out one afternoon
every week, and that, in addition to her nightly
meetings, is quite too much. Shall I settle
with her to-day and dismiss her?”
“Why, wife,” said Mr. Harley, “you really
astonish me. This changing of help is enough
to make one wearied of living. Nancy is a
very good girl, for aught I can see. I am sure
she is an excellent cook, and you had better
take into the account how much you would
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miss her in arranging your supper-table now
and then, and her economical habits in the use
of every article, not excepting wood, wherein
she has saved full half her wages the present
winter.”
“Oh, husband, you know nothing about her.
To be sure, she is careful about some things,
and methodical and neat, I will allow; but
she wants too many privileges. There must
be a fortnight every year set apart for visiting
her mother, and that hateful aunt, that plagued
us so last summer with `coming down' to do
her shopping, as she called it. Besides, there
is Friday evening for the lecture, and she is
not always as pleasant as you take her to be
when you are out of the house. I only wish
you had to manage one week in-doors. I suspect
making out invoices and examining bales
of merchandise would be easy work compared
with it. But tell me, had I not better dismiss
Nancy before we give our party? There is a
fine housekeeper who is about leaving Mrs.
Hunt, whom I could obtain for two dollars a
week, and with her I could get rid of overseeing
forever from morning till night. However,
I submit it to you whether she shall go
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or not; I want to words as an afterpiece.
Say all now, just as you think.”
“As you ask my advice, my dear, I will
give it you; but you know, beforehand, you
will act as you please, notwithstanding. I
make it a rule with myself, when I obtain a
clerk who is honest and faithful, to overlook
the many disagreeables by steadily fixing my
eye upon the predominating good qualities,
and to retain him in my service. As there are
no faultless beings among the employers nor
the employed, I account it a good thing to be
forbearing—to overlook what we cannot avoid;
and when we do reprove, let it be done mildly,
yet firmly. I should try this course with Nancy,
and if she is really incorrigible and impudent,
I should dismiss her; if not, by all means
keep her; for our frequent changes of help
may lead people to call us very particular persons,
to say the least. As I have already remarked,
you can talk with Nancy, and if you
find her desirous of staying, I would show a
disposition to retain her, for where there is
one better you would find many worse, as we
have had frequent experience.”
“I don't know about that, Mr. Harley.
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Susan Miles was a great deal pleasanter tempered,
and kinder to little John. Ellen Sawyer
was very good, although she was slack;
and there are things I do not like in Nancy;
and as I have all, comparatively, to do with
her, I must say I am the better judge about her
good or bad qualities.”
“Well, wife, I see, after all, you mean to have
your own way. My place is in the store,
yours in the house; and I leave you to manage.
I will bring home some small notes at
dinner-time, and if Nancy has her dismission,
she can be paid and go, I suppose.”
Mr. Harley made his way to the store,
thankful, as we may infer, that he had one retreat
where the din of fault-finding was not
heard. As Nancy came up to take the breakfast
dishes, Mrs. Harley began to interrogate
her.
“I find, Nancy, of late, you require many
privileges. I have just been talking with husband,
and he thinks if we can keep together,
we had better; if not, we will separate. You
know your wages are high, and my demands
upon your time are proportionately so; if,
therefore, you can give up your weekly
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afternoon visit and your visit yearly, and be content
to take care of little Johnny and do the
work when I am out, always laying the table
with one extra plate—provided husband brings
somebody home to dine—and do the other duties
about the house cheerfully and willingly,
why, you can stay with me; if not, I know a
most perfect housekeeper, whose services I
can obtain, and whose wages will be but a trifle
higher than yours; and with her I can
have all these requirements, besides many other
excellent things, such as my common sewing
done, little John's clothes cut, and Mr.
Harley's shirts made. This person does all
such things, Nancy, and you know these alone
would be a great saving to my time.”
Nancy stammered; she had not known but
that she gave satisfaction to her mistress; she
had endeavoured to do her duty, make herself
obliging, and earn her wages. This sudden
attack, therefore, almost overpowered her;
still, she commanded a little independence, and
made out to say, “If my services do not suit
you, Mrs. Harley, I will not stand in the way
of your getting better help; but if you require
me to give up my lecture and my visit to my
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aged mother, I must tell you I cannot do these
things, because I look upon them as duties,
and most ladies would consider them as such.”
“Then it is of no use for us to try to keep
together,” said Mrs. Harley, quite piqued at
Nancy's last remark. “I will pay you this afternoon,
and you may look elsewhere for a
place. In the mean time, I will go out and secure
the woman I spoke of. I dare say she
will answer my purpose better.”
Thus was a faithful domestic “turned off,”
in the vain hope that a better could be obtained.
-- 013 -- p109-018
CHAPTER II. HIRING A HOUSEKEEPER.
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The door-bell rang at Mrs. Hunt's, and Mrs.
Harley was announced as wishing to speak
with Mrs. Hopkins the housekeeper. Presently
a tall, rather genteelly-attired middle-aged
female entered. Her face was not altogether
prepossessing, for she had a terrible squint
and an occasional scowl; besides, she wore a
large mourning-ring on her forefinger, and
seemed very much at home in the parlour.
But Mrs. Harley called on business, and etiquette
required no preface with a housekeeper.
“I hear,” said Mrs. Harley, “that you are
about leaving Mrs. Hunt, and she has recommended
me to secure your services, if possible;
she gives you an excellent character for
faithfulness, honesty, and capability. Now as
I have had those in my employ entirely destitute
of all these last qualities, I am desirous of
procuring you without delay to superintend
my family. The work is light, the house very
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convenient and pleasant; we have but little
company, live very plain, and a good, systematic
housekeeper would have full half the
time to herself. In such a place, what wages
would you expect, Mrs. Hopkins?”
“I suppose you have a girl `to wait and
tend,' and a man to make the fires?” said the
experienced housekeeper.
“Oh no,” said Mrs. Harley; “my husband
would not have so many people about. A
man I detest myself. They are in the way
in small families more than their services are
worth. I make it a point to do nearly all for
my little boy myself. Mr. Harley does his
own waiting, and we have never kept but one
girl.”
“Then,” said the housekeeper, “I should not
like to engage. I have the offer of three good
places now. Mrs. Ogle sent for me yesterday:
she keeps a man, two girls, and a washerwoman,
and has only three in the family. She offers
me every privilege and three dollars a
week for my services. Mrs. Perkins does the
same; and in either of those places my work
would only consist of a simple oversight of
the establishment. Besides, they travel
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during the summer, and the houses are both kept
open, and I can have access to everything—”
Here the delightful conversation was ended
by a violent coughing-fit which seized Mrs.
Hopkins, and terminated a recital of her high
expectations.
Now was the time for Mrs. Harley to improve
or lose the opportunity of securing the
treasure of an experienced housekeeper. She
saw that she was reduced to the necessity of
getting two instead of one to supply faithful
Nancy's place, and it might be that even three
would not do it! It occurred to her, very luckily,
that she could obtain a child for her “victuals
and clothes” (as the homely phrase is),
who would answer “to wait and tend;” and
as these were expenses she should not feel, it
seemed practicable to engage Mrs. Hopkins.
The wages were enormous. “Nancy did all
for ten and sixpence,” echoed in her ears; and
fearing a re-echo from Mr. Harley, she demurred
about the wages, and finally it was
agreed that the house should be kept by Mrs.
Hopkins for the sum of two dollars and a half
per week, provided extra help should be furnished,
and yet other assistance on washing
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days, party nights, &c. Mrs. Hopkins was to
be installed in her new home the next week.
Mrs. Harley returned home, and finding
herself rather premature in her dismissal of
Nancy, overcame her natural dislike of yielding,
and begged her to stay till the aforesaid
housekeeper should enter upon her duties, it
being conceded that it might be a mutual accommodation.
It was now dinner-time. Mr. Harley came
home with rather a lengthened visage; perhaps
some little incident in a business transaction
had ruffled his temper; perhaps he
dreaded continual changes at home! At any
rate, it was an unguarded moment to consult
with him respecting such a movement. Married
ladies should never consult their husbands
upon important changes when their spirits
are disturbed by vexatious out-door proceedings.
Mrs. Harley had not learned this.
She accordingly gave a spring with little John,
whom she held in her arms in the nursery, as
she heard the door open, and, seating herself
in the dining-room, she began: “Oh, husband,
I have talked with Nancy, and she says she
cannot give up her lectures and her visits, &c.
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The long and short of the story is, that she
is going away—not this afternoon, so don't
scowl so; but when Mrs. Hopkins comes, and
that will be next Friday—one week hence;
and after dinner I want you to go with me to
the society where they keep poor children
`to let or give away,' if people want them,
and we will select a little girl, one that can
take care of little Johnny, and do a great deal
of light work, for Mrs. Hopkins has not been
accustomed to that. She has had the offer of
ever so many places where they keep men,
and women, and children, and she could get
high wages just for an oversight in such places,
so I know she is a first-rate housekeeper;
and I thought we had better begin with her indulgently;
and I promised to get a girl to assist,
which, you know, will really be a great
service to us.”
“And what wages,” inquired Mr. Harley,
“does the new housekeeper require? As she
is to assume the character of mistress,” he said,
rather sarcastically, “I suppose she expects
high remuneration?”
“Only two dollars and a half a week, husband!
Do you think that high, considering
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how much sewing she is to do? Besides, she
will prepare nearly all for our party; she is
excellent at blanc-mange, custards, and ices;
she dresses ham beautifully, can make as good
chicken-salad as Ude himself, and scallops oysters
to a nicety. Now, considering all these
things, is it not better to pay a little more, and
have one person do all?”
“These are all expectations, Mary; perhaps
the reality will prove that she is not as
good as Nancy, after all. I have seen people
highly recommended who proved no better on
that account; and I must say, I think we shall
go on rather extravagantly.” A fortune in a
wife, and a fortune with a wife, are not synonymous
terms, thought Mr. Harley.
There are men in the world who are willing
to yield to their wives a carte blanche as
to expenses and in-door management for a
time, to show them their own incompetency
for the charge, even though they be sufferers
thereby: such a one was Mr. Harley. They
accordingly went to the society before mentioned,
and made choice of a girl, who was
to do the housekeeper's bidding at the very
cheapest rate, and hurried back to afford
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Nancy an opportunity to go out in pursuit of a
place.
It so happened that a cook was wanted in
one of our opulent families, and advertisements
had been inserted in the newspapers to
obtain one. Nancy had read them, and, neatly
attired, she made her way thither. Her
modest face was a passport to her reception,
and an agreement was immediately made, provided
she could enter upon her labours the
next Monday morning. “Mrs. Harley will
not refuse this privilege,” thought Nancy; “and
as my dismission is sudden, she will not deprive
me of a good place to befriend her a few
days.”
Justice to Mr. and Mrs. Harley require me
to add that she predicted rightly.
-- 020 -- p109-025
CHAPTER III. MRS. HARLEY AND HER TRIALS.
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We will leave Nancy at her new abode,
and look in upon Mrs. Harley on Monday afternoon.
The reader has had no history of
her early life. Suffice it to say that she was
very beautiful, and brought up by an indulgent
mother, who had a few thousands, the income
of which, with a part of the principal, she had
lavished upon her daughter's education. She
painted in water colours, and played upon the
piano; she could imitate a mezzotint engraving
exceedingly well, and make a wax japonica
far more superb than a real one; she could
waltz as well as a French dancing-master, and
it was more currently reported than believed
that she once took lessons on the harp. Be
that as it may, her “harp of a thousand strings”
was seldom long in tune at a time. She grew
up fond of excitement—the creature of impulse—
living upon an expected ball or party;
and so exquisitely sensitive, that plain
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household affairs could not be discussed in her presence.
Her mother, it was said, predicted from her
birth that she would rise “to great wealth and
preferment,” because the dream-book solemnly
asserted that a child born in that month, and
on that day of the month, would meet with
such a fate! But, as a proof that we often
grievously deceive ourselves, the result was,
that she married a young gentleman of good
standing in society, to be sure, and of respectable
wealth, but not enough to shine as a rich
man. At the time of Nancy's departure they
had been married three years, had been keeping
house about two years, and, incredible as
it may appear, in that time they had employed
and discarded thirteen different domestics!
The reader will pardon this digression, as the
sketch seemed necessary to prepare us for
taking a peep at the domestic arrangements as
they came along under the superintendence
of Mrs. Harley.
Nancy left everything in extremely neat
order, and it required but little experience to
keep things smoothly for a few days at least.
But, for the want of that little experience, what
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difficulties ensue! Mrs. Harley's first effort
at making tea gave proof of her utter incompetency.
She omitted to kindle the fire in due
season, and, of course, it was very late before
supper appeared. Thought she, “Anybody
can make a good toast; it is easy to do, and
will be acceptable to Mr. Harley.” So she
proceeded to the simple process of cutting the
bread: she had seen that done times without
number: there could be no art in that! Eight
or ten slices were soon cut about the thickness
of a wafer; the fire was scorching hot,
and the bread, being left to take care of itself
while she laid the table, was sadly burned;
but, by dint of scraping and cutting, it assumed
only a dark brown appearance, dried to a
crisp! In this condition, she deemed rightly a
little melted butter would soften it; but as she
unluckily forgot to add a little water and salt
with it, it made but a poor accompaniment to
a cup of tea, which tasted very much as if it
were made of smoky water, in consequence
of having forgotten the cover to the teakettle!
But, as simple as was this first trial of her skill,
it produced a great deal of heat and an unusual
excitability of temper. She was heard
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to exclaim something about the trials of house-keepers,
and to intimate a wish that she were
once more at board.
But Tuesday morning quickly came, and
how should she manage to get a breakfast?
had occurred to her during a wakeful hour of
the night. She resolved that her husband
should not laugh at her inefficiency; and as he
had procured all the requisites for a good fire
the night before, and had actually risen and
made it, lest the lid of the teakettle should be
again forgotten, she proceeded, in like manner
as the evening before, to try her skill at another
plate of toast. Mr. Harley kindly volunteered
to cut the bread; and as the making of coffee
would be attended with trouble, they united in
the belief that cocoa made on the table would
answer the purpose just as well. But Johnny
has awaked, and is crying to be dressed! It
was a forlorn condition to be thus harassed,
and no wonder Mrs. Harley cast about to
know what she could do. It is fortunate for
one at such a time if they have an obliging
husband. Mr. Harley volunteered the office
of nurse and dressing-maid to the child, and
by dint of much running and flurrying a
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breakfast was procured, but of how fine a flavour
neither of the parties was heard to
speak.
As Mr. Harley was about leaving the house
for his business, having concluded that a steak
would serve all purposes for a dinner, the utter
impossibility of undertaking such a charge
overwhelmed the sensitive wife entirely. She
burst into tears, and could only articulate,
“Hus—band, will you—pro—procure me
some—help?” The request was irresistible,
and Mr. Harley proceeded forthwith to the
society where the little girl resided, and by
many entreaties succeeded in getting her to
attend him home immediately.
His wife, hearing the door open, flew to his
presence, and, delighted with the idea that help
was so quickly obtained, really resumed her
accustomed cheerfulness, and felt that the interval
between this and Friday, when the
housekeeper would arrive, was not so very
long, after all. She took the little stranger to
the nursery, and bade her amuse Johnny till it
was time to superintend the dinner. But did
the reader ever take charge of a little girl who
had scarcely learned the names of things,
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much less their uses? If so, her expectations
will not be very exalted of immediate aid from
this source. It requires a good manager to
train such a child to be useful. “You may
go, Dorcas,” said Mrs. Harley, as the clock
struck one, “and put the potatoes to boil.”
She forgot that the fire had gone out, and that
the child did not know where to find the potatoes,
nor how to boil them if they were at
hand. Poor Dorcas went down stairs, stood
in the kitchen, put her fingers in her mouth,
and looked out in the street to see how well
the boys coasted down the hill back of the
windows! There was a dead silence. Mrs.
Harley went to the kitchen door in due time,
and inquired if “she was going on well?”
Dorcas, not daring to say to the contrary,
breathed out a low “Yes, ma'am.”
“Then you may come and lay the table
now,” said her mistress. The child came, purple
with staying in the cold kitchen, clothed as
she was in her light summer garments, all the
worse for wear, and awkwardly attempted to
proceed as Mrs. Harley awkwardly dictated.
A few moments before two o'clock, Mrs.
Harley inquired of Dorcas if the potatoes were
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nearly done. Again she stammered “Yes,
ma'am.”
“Then you may begin to cook your steak
now,” said Mrs. Harley. The child was ordered
to her cold kitchen, and there was a
dead calm.
It was dinner-time. Mr. Harley came home,
and Dorcas was told to bring up dinner. While
they were waiting for its arrival, Mrs. Harley
was expatiating on Dorcas's good qualities.
“Why,” said she, “I shouldn't wonder if in
time we made out to do very well alone with
her. The child does not seem half as awkward
as I expected; these societies, after all,
have a very good influence on poor children;
they make them obedient and kind, and really
I think that we shall never regret having taken
one from its secluded walls. Do just come in
the nursery, husband; I want to show you
some flowers I have been arranging to wear
in my hair to-night at Mrs. Blake's, while Johnny
was asleep and Dorcas getting dinner.”
“I am in such haste, my dear, I cannot look
at them now. Let's have dinner: I engaged
to meet a man on business at three this afternoon,”
said Mr. Harley.
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“Dorcas, bring up dinner!” vociferated Mrs.
Harley, at the top of the stairs. No dinner
came, and Mr. Harley, not his wife, ran down
to see the cause of the delay. What was his
consternation at finding little Dorcas curled up
in a chair, alternately looking at the pictures
in an old almanac, and the boys as they coasted
down the hill. Not a spark glimmered on
the hearth. The breakfast relics were scattered
on the table, while the potatoes were
still ensconced in the barrel, and the steak in
the closet!
“Well, wife,” said Mr. Harley, “we are in
a fine predicament, I must confess.”
“What has happened to put you in such a
fluster?” said the astonished wife. “Your eyes
glisten like a maniac's!” While attempting
thus to divine the cause, as she was disposing
a bit of blonde lace over some flowers, Mr.
Harley took his hat and left the house. Alarmed
at such an unusual proceeding, she threw
down the lace and made her way to the kitchen.
Ungovernable tempers often vent themselves
in harsh expressions; we will not disgrace
Mrs. Harley by repeating hers; suffice
it to say, poor Dorcas fell faster than a
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thermometer, by a sudden change from heat to
cold, in Mrs. Harley's estimation. Instead of
a comfort, she had a torment. She could not
endure it: anger, sorrow, and self-reproach
found vent in tears, and in the depths of despair
to bring about a better state of things,
she resolved to dress herself and go to Mrs.
Hunt's, and if money and persuasion could
prevail, to use both lavishly to procure the
immediate services of the housekeeper. “It
is high time,” thought she, “to conciliate my
husband's esteem.”
Intent on this scheme, Dorcas was left with
John, feeling that her new home was not as
pleasant as the one she had left: a scanty meal
was provided for her there; now she had none,
because she could not provide for others.
The “experienced housekeeper,” as luck
would have it, had gone on a visit to her daughter
in a neighbouring town; but Mrs. Hunt,
kindly disposed towards her suffering friend,
offered her the help of her chamber-maid,
whom she was about sending away that very
afternoon, adding, by way of recommendation,
that “poor help is better than none.” Mrs. Harley,
having a vivid recollection of Dorcas,
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could not coincide with the remark, but supposing
age was synonymous with usefulness in
a domestic, concluded Bridget would do for a
few days. Now Bridget was a stout Irish
woman, who counted her beads, made confession
of her sins (which were many), and attended
mass regularly, and all the wakes to
which she was invited.
About five that afternoon she entered upon
service in Mrs. Harley's employ, who did not
see her till she appeared in person at her door,
to which she had been directed with extreme
accuracy, lest she might go to the wrong place,
as she had done once before.
-- 030 -- p109-035
CHAPTER IV. THE IRISH COOK.
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“And what does your ladyship require of
me?” asked Bridget, as she courtesied before
her mistress. “It sure is not all the work you
are about setting me to do, for it is not me
who am accustomed to all sorts of labour.”
“I suppose you can do plain cooking?” asked
Mrs. Harley; “at least you must try your
hand at it a few days, until my housekeeper
arrives?”
“And may I ask your ladyship who she is
to be?”
“Why, Mrs. Hopkins, Bridget; she with
whom you have been living. I thought Mrs.
Hunt told you.”
“Indade not,” said Bridget, colouring deeply;
“if it's her who is to be my mistress, I will
be after walking full shortly. Since I came to
Ameriky I have never seen her like, and, by
the powers, I have lived in all sorts of families;
howsomdever, it's not looking well in me to
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put her out of your ladyship's favour afore she
comes, so plase tell me my business, and I will
be looking after it at once.”
Mrs. Harley's heart sank within her as she
listened to the innuendoes with which Bridget
abounded about Mrs. Hopkins; but, willing to
look on the favourable side, she reasoned with
herself in this manner: “The Irish have strong
dislikes, and express them unguardedly; it may
be some trifling offence is the origin of all this
hatred;” and with a sincere desire that things
should be better arranged for tea than they
had been at dinner, she bade Bridget make
some buttermilk cakes for supper, as she had
always heard that the Irish were particularly
fond of making that kind of bread, in remembrance
of the fare of their native country. She
even went so far out of her usual routine as
to show her new girl where she could find all
the ingredients, and most neatly arranged was
everything by the faithful Nancy before she
left. The contrast between this unpromising
cook and her last really made Mrs. Harley
sigh; so she left the kitchen, bidding Bridget
be sure and have tea ready at seven. Having
satisfied herself that here her duty ended, she
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dismissed all anxiety as to the result, and returned
to the nursery to await her husband's
return.
He came, wearing an anxious brow, giving
outward evidences of the conflict within. How
often had he regretted that he had been fascinated
by accomplishments merely; and thus
sorrow, mingling with his love, that one so
misdirected in youth should be the hinderance
rather than the helper of his joys, made his
heart ache, and he sought to drown his bitter
thoughts in forgetfulness by mingling with the
world, sometimes in the theatre, and sometimes
with a jovial club. His wife, among her frivolities,
looked not beyond the present moment,
and, provided both were pleased, it mattered
not how the pleasure was procured. But we
will not digress any longer from the tea-table.
“The biscuit is done, ma'am, and the tea is
waiting for his honour,” was the summons to
the evening meal. And, sure enough, there
were plenty of them done, for in the centre
of the table was a high mound of bread sufficient
for a large company; two slices of butter
were ranged on each side of it, and, not
finding the milk handy, she had put on some
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buttermilk, while, fearing lest the tea should be
wanting in strength, she had filled the teapot
nearly half full before she poured the water
upon it. Mr. and Mrs. Harley diluted it again
and again: still its fearful strength remained.
The whole solution of the affair was, that
Bridget, having tasted something stronger than
the tea, mistook the proper quantity, and having
carried it to table, had laid herself before
the kitchen fire to cure her toothache. “She
had rinsed her mouth with a little New-England
rum, and it produced a sleepy sensation!”
The pain continued so violently that she could
not rise, and finally was obliged to be helped
or carried to bed; and as she had made cakes
enough for breakfast, she concluded her time
was her own, and she could use it as she
pleased.
Having put her in safe quarters for the
night, Mr. Harley proposed to his wife that
they should go in the kitchen and look after
the new cook's arrangements for the next day.
There was a pan of bread standing uncovered
upon the hearth, mixed neither with buttermilk,
yeast, nor water. Its appearance was
dingy in the extreme, and its flavour evinced
-- 034 --
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that coffee or the grounds of coffee were not
wanting to give it consistency. What treatise
of cookery Bridget had studied, no one could
tell. Upon being interrogated the next morning,
she said it was done by “confusion of
her brain.”
Fearing lest the complaint should again
seize her, the jug of New-England rum was
carefully locked up, and Bridget was herself
again. Still, it must be acknowledged that
she was poorly versed in cookery; for, upon
receiving a piece of meat slightly corned to
be boiled for dinner, Bridget very carefully
spitted the same, and, after much basting and
“labouring over the joint,” as she called it, “it
would not look rigelar like roast mate at all.”
All these inconveniences were pretty quietly
borne, because hope whispered in Mrs. Harley's
ear that the housekeeper would remedy
all defects; and she so often told her husband
this, that he too tried to persuade himself of
its truth. But there will be times when strong
realities render even hope faint, and such were
the days which were pressing upon the married
pair. “Patience had its perfect work”
wherever Bridget lived, and she called it in
-- 035 --
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full exercise again the day after she roasted
the corned meat.
For a day or two past, Bridget, finding that
she was not very narrowly watched by her
good mistress, and overhearing her say that
she intended to go out on a certain evening,
thought within herself there would be no harm
in giving “a bit of a spree.” She saw there
would be a difficulty in giving her invitations
verbally; but, being fortunately acquainted
with the men who took the “dry dirt” and the
scavenger, she communicated her intention of
having a party to them, and delegated them to
give her invitations, adding, “Be sure and tell
them not to come till early bedtime, lest my
master and mistress be not out of the way.”
The sons of the Green Isle tipped up the
barrel and firkin with a significant nod to
Bridget, and the invitations were forthwith despatched.
Bridget blundered over her duties
very unsatisfactorily to her master and mistress,
always failing whenever a good thing was expected
of her, and yet continuing to lead a tolerably
sober life, because, as she had free access
to the store-room, she knew the benefit it
would confer on her at her approaching party.
-- 036 --
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She most good-humouredly assisted her mistress
when the eventful evening came, and
having lavished many encomiums upon her,
as soon as they were gone prepared herself to
receive her guests. Little Johnny was left
asleep, quite unconscious of what was going
on below. Dorcas had nodded until her knitting-work
had dropped upon the floor, and
then betook herself to rest, leaving Bridget sole
mistress, momentarily expecting her friends.
A loud shuffling of feet and clamour of
tongues announced the approach of Patrick
O'Connelly and his intended mate, Lucinda
Finahan. Bridget had scarcely finished her
demonstrations of joy, heightened, “because
they had come just in time,” when a loud knock
announced the remainder of the party. They
were quickly seated in the dining-room, and
in true Irish style having expressed themselves
very hyperbolically upon the beauty of the
apartment, it was proposed that they should
take a game at cards. But this being a rather
quiet business, since Bridget had found the key
to the wine-cellar, a dance was preferred.
But they had no music; and as the piano was
silent in the parlour, there could be no harm
-- 037 --
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in just touching the keys: they could make out
to hop by the sound. The “crathur” they
had swallowed rather lavishly made them exceedingly
boisterous and merry. In the midst
of this high excitement, who should open the
door but Mr. Harley. Bridget's heart leaped
to her mouth, and she attempted to stammer
out an apology, but it was too late: she was
near losing her balance, and retreated to bed,
leaving her company to manage for themselves
in the best way they could. They were quickly
escorted to the door by Mr. Harley, he bidding
them, upon peril of life and limb, never
to venture into his house again.
-- 038 -- p109-043
CHAPTER V. AN EVENING LECTURE AND A MORNING SCENE.
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
If there ever was reason to give what is
called a “curtain lecture,” surely the propitious
time had now arrived.
True, Mrs. Harley had nearly fainted with
agitation at Bridget's unlawful proceedings,
but she imagined that she could not be chargeable
with the fault: the Irish were so disposed
to take liberties, no restraint was of any use
to them. Not so reasoned the incensed husband:
it appeared to him that utter ruin was
awaiting him—loss of reputation, at being thus
imposed upon by help; and loss of comfort,
since his home afforded none of it. He expressed
himself firmly and freely.
“Wife, things have come to such a pass that
I must interfere; hitherto I have given you
the charge of the house, thinking the office
of managing belonged to the woman. I have
not requested or wished you to labour, but I
have expected an oversight of the domestic
arrangements, which you have not bestowed.
-- 039 --
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I have become weary of living; all I provide
is worse than lost. Our family is small enough
to be easily and prudently managed, but how
is it done? The single article of flour has
cost me more than my neighbours, who have
twice the number of persons; and my bill at
the grocer's this year, which only includes small
items, amounts to more than three hundred
dollars. I must turn the tables, and see what
I can do.”
“My dear,” articulated the grieved wife,
“when the housekeeper comes it will not be
so. She will be here to-morrow night.”
“I am not at all certain she will remedy the
case, wife. Every married woman in good
health should keep her own house: it is a sacred
office, from which she has no right to
shrink; it is a part of her marriage covenant—
it gives dignity to her character.”
“And littleness to her mind,” interrupted
Mrs. Harley.
“So long, my dear, as you cherish such a
silly impression, I can predict nothing but evil.
I will submit it to yourself, which is the most
elevating employment, to spend one's time and
ingenuity in decorating a dress for a ball,
-- 040 --
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arranging a few flowers for the hair, and ransacking
every dry goods store for the particular
shade of a riband, or faithfully to superintend
that domestic economy which gives pleasure
to the kind husband, and by regularity and
becoming dignity creates the fear of doing
wrong in the servants? I must say, had you
discharged these duties, I do not believe we
should have been assailed by an Irish mob; and
farther yet, had you known the worth of a
good domestic, Nancy would not have been
turned away because her principles made it
important she should go out one evening in the
week to a religious lecture: we were never
disgraced by drunken revels when she was
with us.”
“You are forever recounting the good qualities
of Nancy,” said the irritated wife: “I intend,
if my life is spared me till to-morrow, to
get her back, if I can. I will give up my
housekeeper, who possesses every requisite for
the office, and once more see if, by giving
Nancy all her privileges, I can have a little
peace, for between you and the help I have
lived in misery ever since I commenced keeping
house.”
-- 041 --
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“That you cannot do,” said Mr. Harley,
“for I saw the gentleman with whom Nancy
now lives yesterday, and he says she is worth
everything to him—she is so quiet and methodical.”
“And stupid and overbearing he might have
added,” said Mrs. Harley. “No, I won't go
after her either; for if I send Bridget away and
Mrs. Hopkins comes, she will oversee Dorcas,
and we shall do very well yet: you may say
what you please, husband, I am resolved to try
a housekeeper. You know nothing about my
cares. Is not Johnny enough for one woman
to take care of? and besides, what time could
I get to sew, or read, or prepare for company,
or receive any, if I made myself the slave you
wish? If I have a housekeeper, she will take
charge of all these things, and my mind need
not be disturbed with `what will we have
for dinner?' and `will you see to the pudding
yourself, my dear, and have it punctually
served?' No, thank fortune, you can discuss
such matters with the housekeeper, and I
shall be permitted to superintend my dressmaker,
which is far more congenial to my
mind.”
-- 042 --
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“And elevating to your character, I suppose,”
said Mr. Harley, rather sarcastically.
“You are too provoking,” answered the indignant
wife: “I wish to hear no more, for I
am sleepy.”
So saying, she betook herself seemingly to
rest. What were the nature of her dreams,
I will not pretend to say. Not so with Mr.
Harley. He was tried beyond measure; mortification,
anxiety, bitter reflections, and dissatisfaction
with his manner of living, banished
completely sweet forgetfulness. He would
fain live rationally; with prudence, his gains
would warrant many luxuries: still, though
every avenue seemed closed that would bring
about his purposes, he tried to think his wife's
prediction might be verified, and that the
housekeeper would restore some degree of
comfort to his dwelling.
Thus he passed a wretched night. Towards
morning the intoxicated Bridget was heard
making her way to the kitchen; but having
risen in the night and partaken of the liquor,
she was illy qualified to procure a comfortable
breakfast. Her eyes were so dimmed that she
hardly knew a frving-pan from a coffee-pot!
-- 043 --
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She mistook the uses of things, till, growing
more and more bewildered, she seized hold of
the table lest she should fall, and upset it, demolishing
much of the useful crockery, besides
cutting her head with some of the pieces.
Mr. Harley started from his bed and made
for the kitchen in good earnest; seeing the
dreadful havoc occasioned by the use of the
jug which was standing on the mantel shelf
(Bridget having obtained one of her own), he
proceeded to the street, and engaged a man
to convey the senseless domestic to the police
court as soon as it opened. Here she, being
recognised as an old offender, was conveyed,
as usual, to the House of Correction for six
months.
Mrs. Harley awoke, and freshly pondering
upon last night's lecture, resolved to acquit
herself rather better as a good manager, and
accordingly proceeded to the kitchen, where
her eyes told her the scene that had occurred.
The place was truly disgusting. Who would
not rather exert themselves, if need require,
than to intrust the care of the household establishment
to hands so inefficient and irresponsible!
-- 044 --
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And now there came another eventful day.
Dorcas and her mistress were once more alone,
and they both determined to do as well as they
could, cost them what labour it might. Accordingly,
they went about the difficult process
of preparing dinner. Once more they attempted
to broil a steak and boil some rice—two
very simple things, certainly. With the steak
they were tolerably successful, but with the
rice! Dorcas was untidy in the extreme, and,
without any preparation, she threw the rice in
a dingy pot: it burned upon the sides; and once
more Mrs. Harley was lowered in her husband's
eyes because she despised cooking.
-- 045 -- p109-050
CHAPTER VI. THE HOUSEKEEPER.
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
We are now to be ushered into the presence
of Mrs. Hopkins, the notable housekeeper, who
is to take charge of everything, to bring “order
out of confusion,” and restore quietness
where discord has reigned. She has just
alighted from a carriage, bringing with her
a large travelling trunk and valise, besides
sundry bandboxes, all of which indicated to
the vigilant eyes of the neighbours that Mrs.
Harley had a country cousin who had dropped
down in an evil time, as they were aware
of her inadequacy to take charge of those already
under her care.
Mrs. Hopkins's appearance was masculine
in the extreme; she looked competent to navigate
a ship, to say nothing of managing a
house. After considerable stir made by paying
for her conveyance, which the coachman
thought worth fifty cents, and Mrs. Hopkins
but twenty-five, she closed the door with a
loud invective against all hackmen, and,
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
escorted by Dorcas, went to the nursery, where she
found Mrs. Harley busily engaged in taking
care of little Johnny, who was threatened with
the croup.
“I am so glad you have come, Mrs. Hopkins,”
said the delighted Mrs. Harley, “that I
know not how to express myself. Had it not
been for the expectation of seeing you, I should
hardly have survived the day. Now I want
you to make this your home, to act in it as if
it were your own.”
To all this the housekeeper assented with
becoming nods. There was one thing Mrs.
Harley detected which damped the ardour
of her expectations: she observed that Mrs.
Hopkins sat in gloves: it might be, she had
chapped hands; but they were pic-nic gloves.
Had that been the case, she would have worn
kid. And still she sat, not asking to see the
kitchen, nor offering to do anything in the
nursery. At length it was nearly tea-time.
Mrs. Harley revolved in her mind what she
should say. How unfortunate that she could
not assert her place, and thus show the housekeeper
hers likewise. Dorcas had been despatched
to kindle a fire under the tea-kettle;
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
meanwhile Mrs. Hopkins took out her knitting,
drew off her gloves, and behold, there were
glittering rings on her fingers! But the time
had come for Mrs. Harley to speak: she mustered
courage and said, “Mrs. Hopkins, will
you take charge of the tea-table to-night?”
“Certainly,” replied the dame: “I always
preside at the tea-table.”
“But I mean, see to the making of the toast,
and putting in a proper quantity of tea. Dorcas
is at your service to assist you.”
“That is not my business, Mrs. Harley. I
did not understand, when I engaged to become
your housekeeper, that I should be your cook.
I merely engaged to see to the arrangements
of your table, give directions as to the quality
and quantity of the food, and the time that was
unoccupied after this oversight was completed
was to be my own. You surely have a cook
in your kitchen?”
Mrs. Harley had a certain inefficiency of
mind, which caused her to be grossly imposed
upon by the artful—such a woman as she had
now to contend with in Mrs. Hopkins. She
therefore did not instantly inform her how she
understood it, and tell the real state of the case,
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
but gave a sort of passive assent to all that
was said, which imboldened greatly the new
housekeeper.
“Bridget, my cook, left me this morning,”
said Mrs. Harley. Mrs. Hopkins burst into a
violent fit of laughter at the idea of Bridget's
being a cook, as she had been an eye-witness
to her capability while in Mrs. Hunt's employ.
“But I nope you are on the look-out for another,”
said Mrs. Hopkins; and, bridling up her
head, she added, “I could have gone to fifty
places where they have established servants,
had it not been for your pressing solicitations.”
Now the whole truth was laid open: a new
cook was to be provided. Mistress Hopkins's
place was in the parlour, Dorcas was to do as
she dictated, and Mrs. Harley was indeed to
relinquish housekeeping. She dared not think
of the issue. What would Mr. Harley say?
He had already said, “Every woman ought
to manage her own house.” She had a sort
of feeling that there was truth in the remark.
During this course of reasoning, however,
all things stood still. Dorcas had made the
water boil in the tea-kettle, and then, like a
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
child, had recourse to her almanac, and felt no
farther concern. Mr. Harley came home to
supper: the housekeeper was busily engaged
in knitting. Mrs. Harley looked disconcerted,
for, in fact, there was not much to give her
a calm expression. She called Dorcas, who
never did a thing unless when told, to lay the
table, and they put upon it some cold bread
and butter, and some preserves which Nancy
had made, and sat down, leaving Mrs. Hopkins
in the nursery. This was quite too much
for her spirit to bear. She told Mrs. Harley
that her place was at the table with herself
and husband; that if she intended to make a
servant of her, she would find out her mistake;
and then, to show her title to the situation, she
commenced a harangue upon her pedigree,
making out her noble extraction, although Mrs.
Hunt had told Mrs. Harley that she was extremely
low, and her character rather questionable,
notwithstanding the good recommendation
she gave her.
Poor, inefficient wife, how I wish I could
relieve you! I long to discard your house-keeper,
to bid you learn to govern, and become
mistress of your family!
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
Mr. Harley, of course, felt again disheartened.
There seemed an end to all attempts at
living with any comfort, and he communicated
his thoughts again to his wife. But she bore
up with a firmer spirit. She thought, if a cook
could only be obtained, she should do well
enough; and as she had heard of one that evening
who was about leaving one of the neighbouring
families, she entreated permission of
her husband to make but this one more trial.
The expense was not mentioned, and the indulgent
husband granted the request.
-- 051 -- p109-056
CHAPTER VII. THE NEW COOK AND NEW MANAGEMENT.
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
“There is a firkin of butter wanting,” said
Abigail, as she commenced her new apprenticeship,
“and a barrel of flour, and another
of sugar, and a bag of coffee, for aught I can
see of any; and pray tell me where is the
store-room, and the closet of crockery, and
things to do with, for I suppose they don't expect
me to make things out of nothing,” muttered
the new-comer into the ears of Mrs.
Hopkins.
“Certainly not,” said she; and, drawing a little
book from her pocket, she took her pencil
and noted the necessary articles, to pass them
over to Mr. Harley when he came home to
dinner. Having finished the list enumerated
by the cook, she furnished her own, which consisted
of jars of olives and limes, drums of figs,
boxes of raisins, &c. She then handed the list
to Mr. Harley, adding, “I have only put down
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
the necessaries upon this account; the others I
will give you at my leisure.”
Mr. Harley took the items thus furnished
into the nursery, and read them over to his
wife, adding, “I see no reason why a house-keeper
should be indulged in these last luxuries;
do tell me if this is the fashion, to procure
whatever their fancy may dictate: if so, I believe
I will turn housekeeper myself.”
“Now, Mr. Harley,” said the wife, “don't
begin to find fault the first thing. We are out
of these articles, and they are useful, I doubt
not: Mrs. Hopkins is so experienced, she would
not ask for unnecessaries. Do let her have
the entire control for one month, at least, without
fretting; by that time we can see how
things will come out.”
As much as Mr. Harley dreaded changes
generally, now he almost desired them, for he
saw the impositions thus commencing. The
figs and olives were erased, for he resolved
that they should not be procured; half the
quantity of some of the other articles was ordered,
while all Abigail's specifications were
procured without finding a word of fault. The
housekeeper's rage was enkindled when she
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
saw that the handcart did not contain all the
articles upon which she had set her fancy.
She breathed out her invectives to Abigail in
little Dorcas's hearing, ending them with, “I
will come up with them yet.” These last
words little Dorcas reported to her mistress,
besides telling her that Abigail was going to
make some poundcake for luncheon. This irritated
Mrs. Harley, who, instead of proceeding
to the kitchen to cast her eyes about there,
bade Dorcas stop her tattling, and bring no
reports to her ears; she expected the cook and
housekeeper to attend to all those things; the
cake was probably making for tea. Dorcas,
thus rebuked, resolved, if they gave her any,
she would never tell any more tales; so she
crept softly into the kitchen about the time
her olfactories told her the cake was smoking
hot somewhere; but, seeing Mrs. Hopkins run
with it to the closet as a safe retreat, while
Abigail bade her “Go along up stairs and stop
the everlasting crying of that child,” she deemed
it best to make her retreat.
“Dorcas, do stay here and attend to your
business,” reiterated Mrs. Harley. The child,
reproved alike in nursery and kitchen, took
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
her seat beside the cradle of little sleeping
John.
By-and-by Mrs. Hopkins came up, and, in
true palaver style, though much malice lay in
her heart, hoping she did not intrude, begged
permission to know what grocer in the neighbourhood
Mr. Harley patronised. She would
like to keep a little book account with one of
them; it was so handy to run in such a place
when you were waiting for some little thing.
“But,” said Mrs. Harley, “my husband prefers
to pay for such things at the time; if you
want small change, he will always give it to
you. He says the reason is, there is generally
something added on each little article purchased,
which is saved when paid for at the
time. However, if it is really needful to have
such an account, perhaps he will not object, if
you ask him. I don't know about these matters,
I am sure. Is not this a pretty frill for
my satin dress, Mrs. Hopkins?”
“Beautiful, indeed, ma'am: what a fine
taste you have, Mrs. Harley. Poor Mrs.
Hunt used to get me to make all her caps for
her. She had no more taste than an owl.
And is this the dress you are making it for?”
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
continued the housekeeper, holding up a white
satin that lay upon the bed. “How splendidly
you will look, Mrs. Harley! I declare, I
was telling Abigail yesterday nobody would
take you to be a married lady, you look so
young.” So saying, she ran down stairs, telling
Abigail what a fool she had made of Mrs.
Harley, by stuffing her with flattery; “For,”
said she, “by that means I have got her consent
to keep a little account at the grocer's,
and I'll tell you what it is, it won't be a very
small sum at the end of the year; however, it
makes no difference to me: I shall be off before
that time.”
Dorcas (“the little plague” they used to
call her) was now despatched to the grocer's
for a variety of articles, and she was required
to get a book, where they might be inserted,
as Mr. Harley wished to open an account with
him. The reader may wonder that Mrs. Hopkins
did not go herself; but she knew well
that, in the end, the step she had taken would
occasion difficulty, and, if she did not order the
book herself, the blame might, in part, be
thrown upon Dorcas; at any rate, she or Abigail
might be made responsible; for she could
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
manage herself to evade it all, she artfully
reasoned. Thus the book was obtained, the
account commenced, and Mrs. Harley did not
give herself the trouble to inquire about it.
This indifference did not escape the eagle-eyed
housekeeper, and she resolved to take advantage
of it.
Dorcas was an excellent errand girl; a
little bribe would induce her to run herself almost
to death. How often were her services
required when Mrs. Harley was out! Little
Johnny had to be tied in a chair, and left
alone, while she was out doing the house-keeper's
errands. If he fell over, which he
sometimes did, of which proof was given by a
burn or scratch, good Mrs. Hopkins was the
first to tell his mother, adding, “Poor little
dear, when children creep so fast, they are
sure to go to the wrong place.” The bruise
was faithfully rubbed and kissed, and all was
well again. Thus was the shortsighted mother
deceived even by Dorcas; for she soon followed
the example of the housekeeper, because
she was rewarded with a handful of figs or a
nice cake whenever she pleased Mrs. Hopkins.
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
Matters now went on swimmingly. This
term is used, because they were literally all
afloat. Mrs. Harley was out every morning,
enjoying her delightful freedom. Mr. Harley
was always served with food excellently cooked,
and as the kitchen was prohibited ground
to him, unless at night, after all had gone to
rest, of course, things were in order for him
to see at that time, as all they wished concealed
was carefully put away, and he really began
to feel as if his home might still yield him
some enjoyment. The book was now kept at
the grocer's entirely; for it was so often wanted,
that Mrs. Hopkins said she could not take
the trouble of it; besides, she feared lest Mr.
Harley should get sight of it; and already
leaf after leaf was filled with little sundries,
from a cent's worth of yeast to those more expensive
articles which gave such fine flavour
to their soups, and such delicacies to their table.
Mr. Harley sometimes wondered how it
was that there was not oftener a call upon his
purse. He never dreamed of the grocer's
“little account.”
-- 058 -- p109-063
CHAPTER VIII. A PARTY PROPOSED.
[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]
“Husband,” said Mrs. Harley, throwing
herself upon the sofa, as she returned late
from making some fashionable calls, and found
him waiting for her to dine, “we must return
some of our numerous obligations to people.”
Here she ran to the centre table, and taking
up a note, said, “Do look here; we have an
invitation to Mrs. Howe's party the sixteenth
of March, and this makes the second to which
we have been invited without returning her
civilities: it will not do; we must give a party.
There never can be a better time than
now to do so; we have good help, and, if we
give it in the house, this will make all things
go on smoothly; but I am thinking we had
better adopt the last fashion, and go to Grubini's.
We can be provided with everything
there without any trouble; besides, it is the
most genteel way of receiving one's friends.”
“But you forget the enormous expense of
-- 059 --
[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]
doing so, my dear,” said Mr. Harley; “a party
got up in this style would not amount to much
short of five hundred dollars. If I should
happen to have a note due that day, and wanted
my five hundred, I should begin to wish that
I had received my friends at home.”
“Poh! poh!” said Mrs. Harley, “you commenced
this style of talking a year or two ago,
when business was dull; now you know you
told me the other night you had sold more
that day than would be sufficient to give half
a dozen parties.”
“Provided I received my pay for the goods,
I should have added.”
“There is always an if in the way when I
propose anything fashionable or genteel, Mr.
Harley; I suppose, though, we could manage
very well with a party in the house. Our
rooms are large, and the basement would do
to set the supper-table in; or, in case it did not,
we might remove the beds and throw open our
chambers. Still, I should rather go to the Hall;
the floor is so much better for dancing, and
there would not be such a tremendous jam.
At any rate, we will talk it over this evening;
the bell is ringing for dinner now, and I will
-- 060 --
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
just throw off my cloak, and be down in a
minute.”
Sure enough, the dinner was ready, cooked
to a nicety. The first course was vermicelli
soup; next, a brace of ducks, beautifully roasted;
then a black currant pudding, “as rich as
wedding cake,” according to Mrs. Hopkins's assertion,
for the recipe was taken from an old
English cook-book. Both Mr. and Mrs. Harley
rejoiced that at length things were arranged
to their mind.
During the afternoon Mrs. Harley's thoughts
were busily engaged in making out the arrangements
for the intended party. Thought she,
“I must have a new dress—shall it be satin or
velvet? The latter, I have understood, is the
most worn this winter; and if I could contrive
to get it trimmed with one of those golden
wreaths, how splendidly it would look! besides,
I could get my ostrich feathers coloured to
match! but then husband will say it is silly to
make such a parade—Oh dear! I wish he was
more fond of living stylishly!” In the midst
of these cogitations, Mrs. Gerrish entered.
After the first complimentary phrases were
over, Mrs. Gerrish said, “Are you going to
-- 061 --
[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]
Mrs. Howe's party? I am really astonished
that she should be so foolish as to give it in
her own house; you remember how crowded
we were at her last; I did think she would
overcome her meanness, and go to Grubini's
this time. You know I gave mine there; how
I regretted your absence! To be sure, it cost
a pretty penny, but what is money good for
unless we can use it in this way once in a
while. Besides, to have all the trouble saved
is to be taken into the account; and then the
supper-table is so splendidly spread, and all
the company can get a sight of it there, and
I rather think a taste too, for there was an immense
quantity eaten at my ball! Still, Mrs.
Harley, if you should ever give a party, do
let me recommend you to the Hall.” Thus
saying, she espied a friend in the street, and
making a hasty excuse, joined her, leaving
Mrs. Harley more strongly impressed than
ever with the notion that it would be far better
to pay a little more and appear like other
people.
With what busy thoughts did Mrs. Harley's
brain now teem! What insurmountable obstacles
lay in her way to the accomplishment
-- 062 --
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of her purposes! How vainly she wished
that she could overcome her husband's dislike
to her nicely-concerted plans! She would be
willing to economize in any way if she could
only be indulged in this. She grew irritable;
little John was ordered to the kitchen, because
his noise made her head ache, and Dorcas, with
her rattling knitting-needles, was enough to
craze one. She looked at her watch, and finding
there would be time to make a call before
tea, slipped on her cloak and bonnet, and went
to consult one of her fashionable confidantes
as to what she could do! She found her friend
busily engaged in arranging, or, rather, superintending
the arrangement of her evening dress
for a large cotillion party. It was a beautiful
salmon-coloured velvet, trimmed with flowers.
There was a French headdress called a toque,
ornamented with feathers, which Mrs. Harley
thought gave to the wearer a queen-like appearance.
She carefully examined all parts
of the dress, taking a pattern for her own.
We will not repeat all that passed between
the ladies, lest it should expose a great deal of
manœuvring with which the world in general
is unacquainted. The whole substance was,
-- 063 --
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that a large party at one's house was troublesome,
ungenteel, and a crowded sort of an affair.
Mrs. Harley was now convinced she
must conform to the fashion, in defiance of her
husband's judgment. What a mere tool a
thoroughly fashionable woman becomes!
Mr. Harley came home to tea, and found
his wife in a most excited state. She narrated
to him how her friend had called, and what
she said about parties; that she had been to
her dear friend Emma's, and had seen a splendid
dress, and heard her opinion, which perfectly
coincided with Mrs. Gerrish's, namely,
that she ought to give her entertainment at
Grubini's; adding, “They both say it won't
cost much more than to give a splendid one
at home.”
“Nonsense,” said Mr. Harley, “don't be
such a dupe to these women; they may give
their balls where they please, and I shall take
the same liberty. It would sound pretty, I
must confess, to have it reported about town
that Harley & Co. gave a party at Grubini's
which cost six or seven hundred dollars. I
have more regard to my credit than to do
such a thing; besides, I remember one of
-- 064 --
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your recommendations of Mrs. Hopkins was,
that she understood so well how to prepare for
parties.”
In vain Mrs. Harley reasoned in favour of
her own scheme: her husband, though usually
indulgent, was not to be moved on this point,
and she was forced to yield, though it cost her
many tears.
-- 065 -- p109-070
CHAPTER IX. A NEW FURNACE AND A NEW COOK.
[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]
A difficulty now arose, not at all connected
with the much-talked-of party. Mrs.
Hopkins protested that she was never in so
cold a house; that it took Dorcas full half the
time to go to the door, and carry up coal for
the nursery and parlour; she must have a furnace.
It was enough for Dorcas, or any other
girl, to take care of that mischievous little
rogue Johnny, and it was a man's work to
make fires, run on errands, &c.
“Now,” said she, “I believe I heard you talking
of giving a party yesterday afternoon. It
will be just the thing to get a coloured man,
for he can carry the invitations, and attend to
the door when the company arrives; and it
will give quite an air of gentility to the establishment.”
She forgot, when she spoke of having heard
about the party, that she exposed herself to
the suspicion of being a listener at the door, a
-- 066 --
[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
thing she was quite in the habit of doing, that
she might, by means of what she overheard,
adapt herself to circumstances.
Poor Mrs. Harley again felt a sinking of the
heart. It appeared to her that no woman was
ever tried like her before. Mr. Harley's reluctance
to comply with her wishes rose before
her, together with the housekeeper's continual
demands for more help; and an intimation
that Abigail would leave unless her wages
were increased, tormented her extremely. In
addition to all these things, Dorcas began to
put on airs, and to answer with great impertinence,
while she grew heedless, dirty, and
careless of Johnny. Still, she dared not breathe
her complaints to Mr. Harley until the party
was over; that was the first and last thought
about which time and money were alike expended.
It so happened that Mr. Harley was
engaged to a whist-party that evening, and as
he never returned till she was asleep, she made
no advance in any of her new plans till the
next day.
Early the next morning she interrogated
her husband respecting the expediency of setting
a furnace, alleging as a principal reason
-- 067 --
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that their little boy was kept so cold creeping
about the house, and it took Dorcas so much
of the time to bring up the coal, that she should
be thankful to have a uniform temperature
with so little trouble.
“I suppose,” said Mr. Harley, “this too is
the wise instigation of the housekeeper.” But
he had before thought that he must adopt some
expedient to economize in coal, for during the
past winter they had consumed double the
quantity they did the last, yet they had been
kept hardly comfortable; a fact which was
undoubtedly to be attributed to Dorcas, who
always left the doors open, unless when explicitly
and at the time told to do otherwise.
It therefore required no forcible argument to
procure a furnace in the house.
“I have been thinking, too,” said Mrs. Harley,
“that we had better send out our invitations
soon. Let us set a time, and shape our
purposes accordingly: suppose we say the
twenty-sixth of March? and the next thing is,
whom shall we invite? and how many will
our rooms hold? though we may venture to
invite twice the number our house will accommodate,
since not more than half the
-- 068 --
[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]
number will come. But whom shall we despatch
with the invitations?”
“Why not let Robert, our youngest boy at
the store, take them? he knows all about the
city,” said Mr. Harley.
“Oh! dear husband, don't spoil the very beginning.
There is Jethro Moody, who will
take them all for a trifle; besides, we shall
want him several days before and after the
party. You know there is always a great deal
of hurry before the time, and a great many
calls after. We will keep him to go to the
door.”
“Somehow or other,” said Mr. Harley, “you
seem to be growing amazingly stylish lately;
who would know whether Jethro or Robert
left the notes?”
“Why, my dear, I heard Mrs. Gerrish ask
yesterday, when an invitation came, who
brought it? People think more of these little
things than you are aware.”
“It only shows that they have no large affairs
to busy their heads about,” said Mr. Harley;
“however, you may have Jethro, if you
like; Robert is always employed at the store.”
About ten on the same morning Mrs.
-- 069 --
[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]
Hopkins came up, delighted at having carried her
purposes into effect, and informing Mrs. Harley
that the man had come to see about the
furnace, added, “It will make a great deal of
dust and dirt, and whoever lives here while it
is going on deserves higher wages than usual.”
“Don't trouble me,” said Mrs. Harley; “go
on just as you like. You know you are at
perfect liberty to act as if the house were your
own.”
This liberty the worthy housekeeper had
long ago assumed.
While the confusion was so great in the
house, Mrs. Harley thought it would be a favourable
time to go out and select a dress for
the party. She accordingly procured a pattern
of every shade of velvet and satin, and
teased the dressmakers, and racked her own
brains to discover which would be the most
becoming.
It so happened that while the furnace was
setting, and the bricks and mortar carried to
the cellar, that the air of the house was colder
than usual; and Dorcas, wishing to see all
that was going on (being in favour with the
housekeeper because she told no secrets), took
-- 070 --
[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
Johnny into the kitchen. The consequence
was, that, being predisposed to the croup, a violent
cold brought on a severe attack of it, so
that the succeeding night it assumed an alarming
aspect, and, had not medical aid afforded
a quick relief, the child could not have survived.
In this critical season, we may say
with truth that Mrs. Harley forgot entirely
her dress and her party for the first time for
many days. As soon, however, as the child
appeared out of danger, she recommenced her
perambulations, though not without charging
Mrs. Hopkins to see that Dorcas did her duty
and kept the doors shut.
In a few days the furnace was completed,
and answered its purpose admirably. But,
doomed to perpetual change, as those must be
who intrust the management of their affairs to
others, Mrs. Harley was interrupted one morning
by Abigail, who appeared, bundle in hand,
demanding her wages.
“Why, what has happened?” asked Mrs.
Harley.
“Happened! why, enough to provoke a saint,
ma'am: that old jade of a housekeeper has stolen
money from my trunk; and if you knew
-- 071 --
[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
one half about her that I do, you would not
give up your whole house to her in this way.
If you miss anything, you need not accuse me
of stealing! I could tell things enough, if I
chose, about false keys, and going to your
drawers when you are out, but I wont.”
Abigail, having raised her voice above its
natural tone, was overheard by Mrs. Hopkins,
who stood listening in the entry. Fired with
indignation, she burst into the room, and they
criminated and recriminated each other, until
Mrs. Harley was obliged to order them both
out of the room, telling them she “did wish
they would settle their own difficulties, as she
had enough to do to write the invitations to
her party.”
“But if you will only pay me, I will be off,”
said Abigail, “for I will not stay to the party
with such a mistress as Mrs. Hopkins over me,
I can assure you. If you will allow me to tell
you a piece of my mind, I should think you had
better look after your accounts at the grocer's,
and find out who it is that puts Dorcas up to
her impudence.”
Do, Abigail, try and compose yourself,” said
Mrs. Harley, “and stay till the first of April.
-- 072 --
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
Your work will be lighter now, since Jethro is
coming to assist in the family.”
“Oh la! I wouldn't live with a negro if I
didn't hate that old Mrs. Hopkins. `Birds of
a feather may flock together;”' and then she
commenced another tirade full of insinuations
about the housekeeper's trunks. At length,
finding that she could not get her money till
Mr. Harley came from the store, she laid her
bonnet and bundle on the kitchen table, awaiting
his return.
“What can be done to keep things quiet till
after the party,” thought Mrs. Harley. “Can
Mrs. Hopkins be what Abigail says she is?”
And then a vague suspicion came over her
that an embroidered handkerchief which she
had missed could not have dropped from her
muff. Other things, too, had disappeared
strangely; and what did the account-book
mean? She hoped everything would not be
disclosed by Abigail when Mr. Harley paid
her. Then the thought struck her that she
could go to the store and obtain money, and
dismiss Abigail directly. But who would take
her place? She resolved to let Mrs. Hopkins
go and find some one for herself at the
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
intelligence office, where she kept a yearly account,
for convenience' sake, as she was obliged to
change so often. She related her plans to her
confidential, trusty housekeeper, who, congratulating
herself that she was likely to get off
so easily, readily fell in with the proposal, and
even offered to take upon herself the office of
cook till one could be obtained. She had an
eye to the party, and, moreover, was aware
that in no other place could she so effectually
cheat and blind the eyes of her employer.
Mrs. Hopkins repaired immediately to the
intelligence office, as she resolved that she
would not lower herself by doing the drudgery
of the family a single day, if she could
help it. Not being very particular in her
choice, she begged the keeper of the office to
send a cook of some description that very day.
Now a really good servant could not be easily
induced to go to Mrs. Harley's, because they
had acquired the reputation of being difficult
to please, and of making frequent changes,
while affairs were very badly managed.
Mrs. Hopkins waited till the last moment
before she went about preparing dinner. She
had but a very simple one, because, as she
-- 074 --
[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
alleged in the morning, she could not burn herself
to death over the fire; but it was nearly
completed, when, with paper in hand, giving
proof that she was fresh from the office, a dejected,
poorly-clad woman entered. Upon inquiry,
she gave no very flattering account of
herself. She had a bad husband, and two or
three young children at board, and she wished
to obtain the situation of cook, because she
could command more wages in this department.
As this latter clause did not trouble
Mrs. Hopkins, and having perfect liberty delegated
to her, she immediately agreed to give
the new cook two dollars a week.
Mrs. Harley returned to dinner with her
husband, and Mrs. Hopkins explained to them
that wages were rising, and knowing that there
must be some extra work about the time of
the party, she thought it best to pay liberally,
and make them work freely. This satisfied
Mrs. Harley far better than her husband. He
inwardly detested Mrs. Hopkins, and resolved
that, before long, her dismissal should make
one of the many changes in his household.
-- 075 -- p109-080
CHAPTER X. DISMISSAL OF THE HOUSEKEEPER.
[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
The changes in the domestic department occasioning
Mrs. Harley no farther uneasiness,
she set herself about the party in good earnest.
There were but three weeks before the eventful
evening would arrive, consequently they
must soon determine who should be invited
and who excluded. There were a few calling
acquaintances whom she must cut; they
were real bores at any time; for, whenever they
returned her calls, she was always mortified
if obliged to introduce them to her more fashionable
friends, and she inwardly resolved to
take this opportunity of dropping the acquaintance
of all of this class: they were a good
enough sort of people, but not accustomed to
fashionable life, and would make most sorry
figures in the room.
With high determination to have a genteel
party or none at all, Mrs. Harley sat down to
discuss her list of invitations with her husband.
-- 076 --
[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
He read it carefully, pausing occasionally, as
he came to a name with whose owner he had
not the slightest acquaintance, to ask his wife
why they were selected; to which she unhesitatingly
replied, that “She had met them in
company, and it was rather in vogue to invite
such people, if one fancied them. If they did
not come, why, no farther mention need be
made of it; if they did, it raised the character
of the party.”
This greatly amused Mr. Harley, and he
proceeded:
“But I don't see our friends the Bartons
here, nor the Millers, nor Captain White's family.
I hope you don't intend to omit such excellent
people?”
“Well, I did think, husband, I should not invite
any of them. I know they are good people,
but they would enjoy far better a visit in
a social way; you know they seldom go to
parties.”
“No matter for that, my dear; they must be
invited, and then they can act their pleasure
about coming. I have no idea of bringing
strangers to criticise our arrangements, while
our real friends are excluded.”
-- 077 --
[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]
This last remark damped Mrs. Harley's high
hopes. She begged Mr. Harley to let her
have her own way about the invitations; adding,
“Those I exclude will probably never
hear I had a party.”
“But we shall know it ourselves, and I
should feel ashamed to meet those kind-hearted
people, who have done so much for us, and
know that I had purposely neglected them.
No, no, they must be invited.” So saying, he
put down ten names which Mrs. Harley had
excluded.
“I shall live, then, upon the hope that they
will all send their `regrets,' Mr. Harley, for
their daughters will only be wall-flowers all
the evening,” said Mrs. Harley, quite irritated.
“There won't be room for half I would like to
have. Do put down Dr. Green, Professor
Shaw, Dr. Baxter, and Colonel Lewis; they
will be the literary part of the company, and
we must furnish entertainment for some of our
sensible ladies who never dance. I have met
these gentlemen at Emma's and Mrs. Gerrish's,
and there can be no harm in inviting them
here.”
“It appears to me, my dear, that it would
-- 078 --
[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]
be ridiculous in the extreme; I have no acquaintance
with one of those you last named.
We should confine ourselves to those we do
know: I am sure there are enough in our circle
of acquaintance.”
Mrs. Harley apparently acceded to the proposal,
but the next day wrote invitations to
every one of the gentlemen; “For,” said she,
“if Mr. Harley has his way in inviting all those
dowdyish people because they are good, I will
have these, for they will be the ornament of
the party; and if they refuse, he will never
know that they were invited.”
In the course of the week, three hundred invitations
were delivered by Jethro Moody, including
all ages, and nearly all ranks in life,
notwithstanding Mrs. Harley intended to have
a really select party.
And now the time had arrived when Mrs.
Harley must decide on the quality and colour
of her dress. She reopened all the patterns
she had so assiduously collected, and feeling
still undetermined, concluded to run down to
her dressmaker's and let her select one for
her. After a long consultation and deliberation,
carried on with as much gravity as
-- 079 --
[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]
though the happiness of years was connected
with it, they concluded that the salmon velvet
would light the prettiest, and, being the most
expensive, would of course be the most genteel.
There seemed a fatality attendant upon both
dress and party, for upon coming home Mrs.
Harley found her husband very much excited
about Mrs. Hopkins, whom he suspected of
having stolen some money from his secretary.
He was certain it was there the evening before,
but this morning it was missing. He followed
his wife into the nursery, and told her
the particulars. She did not appear very
much astonished or grieved, but calmly replied,
“Well, my dear, let us make the best of it,
and keep Mrs. Hopkins till after the party—she
will be so useful.”
Mr. Harley could be calm no longer, and
exclaimed, “I will not keep her another week,
wife! I entirely disapprove her management.
She has already spent in the last three months
more than it ought to have cost us for a year.
I have overlooked her defects when they stared
me in the face — ay, and her thievish
-- 080 --
[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
propensities too, just to keep peace: only last
night, as I was passing through the kitchen, I
saw her give a large bundle to your new cook,
and, not knowing that I was in hearing, she
said, `Sally, take these things to the woman
who has care of your children: it will pay their
board for some time.' I was on the point of
speaking, but there is such a continual change
of help here, I thought I would keep still; but
now I am determined to act: she shall be instantly
dismissed, party or no party.”
Mrs. Harley burst into tears. The mere
thought of being obliged to oversee the house,
just as she wanted all her time to herself, was
what she could not endure. But Mr. Harley
could be firm, although he had often yielded
for the sake of quietness. He had had doubts
whether little John was properly attended;
and although he did not imagine that his wife
was out half as much as she really was, yet
the little fellow did not always look as neat
and bright as he would like to have him. His
wife, he knew, was dotingly fond of the child;
but he feared that too much attention was bestowed
upon her dress and appearance, and
that Dorcas was not enough watched. This
-- 081 --
[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]
fear had preyed upon his mind for some time,
yet he had kept it wholly to himself.
Feeling just in the mood to utter all these
secret thoughts at this time, every suspicion
was divulged, and his entire disapprobation of
her past management was not a whit concealed.
He had seen far more than those in the
house imagined, and he had come to the conclusion
that a housekeeper must be possessed
of different qualities from those of Mrs. Hopkins
to make his home comfortable and prosperous.
He told his wife so, and asking her
how much they owed Mrs. Hopkins, which,
of course, she did not know, as she cared for
none of these matters, he asked her to inquire,
as he wished to pay and dismiss her that very
afternoon.
“Do, husband, let her stay till I get my dress.
What time shall I have to go out if you leave
me alone with Sally? She has not half the
faculty of Abigail with regard to work, Mrs.
Hopkins says, and what can I do?”
“Why, you had better shut up the house
and send Dorcas and John in to the neighbours',
than to keep such a deceitful, thievish creature,”
said Mr. Harley, warmly. “I will take care
-- 082 --
[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
myself of the affairs, if you do not, till we can
find assistance. I was talking with our neighbour
Mr. Cass last evening: he says he keeps
but two domestics with his large family, and
I am sure they live more comfortably than we
do with three. I really believe, my dear, we
have one too many, and I am disposed to live
without a housekeeper.”
“Then, of course, your wife must be a slave,”
said Mrs. Harley.
“Not so much of a slave as you imagine,”
said Mr. Harley; “for, between ourselves, I
think Mrs. Hopkins has kept us both in pretty
good subjection. I intend to pay her and send
her off this afternoon; and I charge you not to
have any private conversation with her, nor
even intimate that it is your wish she should
stay longer. I will aid you if you need any
assistance; we can live in a more simple way,
and it will be better for our health, as well as
our circumstances.” So saying, he walked to
the dining-room, where sat Mrs. Hopkins, busied,
as usual, about her own affairs.
Without preface or apology, in true business
style, Mr. Harley began:
“Mrs. Hopkins, how much am I indebted
-- 083 --
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
to you? Whatever it is, I wish to discharge it,
as we have no farther occasion for your services.”
The housekeeper was thunderstruck; but,
conscious of her own demerit, she rather faintly
inquired “Why she was so abruptly turned
out of doors?”
Mr. Harley replied that “He wished to have
no conversation upon the subject; all he wanted
was to know the amount he owed her.”
Mrs. Hopkins and Mrs. Harley had kept a
sort of running account, or, rather, Mrs. Harley
had often let Mrs. Hopkins have a few dollars
at a time, and it being rather troublesome
to put it on a book, she had charged her memory
with it, and that proving very treacherous,
the result was that they were obliged to
abide by the housekeeper's statement, who
said that she had never had any money but
twice, making quite a sum for her still to receive,
as she had been housekeeper for two
dollars and a half a week for thirteen weeks,
she said. Incorrect as Mr. Harley believed
this statement to be, he could not refute it, as
he had kept no date of her entrance; and, therefore,
paying her without a word, though his
-- 084 --
[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
countenance clearly indicated his opinion, he
told her he would send a carriage to convey
her wherever she wished that afternoon.
Having the money safely in her own keeping,
and feeling that she should never get another
place equal to this, she cooled down her
wrath, and offered to stay for half that sum
until she had time to look about her for a situation;
“For,” she said, “that privilege is always
given to housekeepers.”
But Mr. Harley was not to be duped any
longer; he told her “That she had not half
earned the money he had given her, and she
could well afford to pay for her board till she
could obtain a place.”
Indignant in the extreme, Mrs. Hopkins proceeded
to the kitchen, and finding Sally an
easy subject to work upon, she told her of her
“unhandsome dismission,” and gave it as her
opinion that Sally had better look out for another
place as quick as possible, for under her
new mistress she would find things sadly altered.
She waited below till she heard Mr.
Harley close the door, and then proceeded to
pour her complaints, highly exaggerated, into
the ears of his wife, while she, with too little
-- 085 --
[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]
independence to rebuke her, could only say,
“Well, well, Mrs. Hopkins, I cannot help it.”
Just before she left, the housekeeper gave
Dorcas, too, a sly wink, telling her “She would
find her a good place whenever she left this
hard one — one where she would be better
treated than to be dragged to death with that
child!”
Having thus set the whole house in a state
of fermentation, she departed. The first evidence
of her interference did not appear till
the next morning, when Sally, just after breakfast,
demanded her wages, saying she should
leave that morning.
Mrs. Harley immediately repaired to her
husband's store, and acquainted him with her
new trials, all of which she ascribed to sending
away the housekeeper. Mr. Harley was
just negotiating some business of importance,
and was not in a situation to be troubled with
home affairs. He only told his wife to pay
Sally and let her go, and said, if she went before
dinner, she might send to Julien's for one.
Mrs. Harley went home with a lightened heart.
It seemed to her that the plan of sending for
dinners already prepared was admirable; she
-- 086 --
[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]
wondered that they had not thought of it before;
and mentally added, “I can get my dress
this afternoon if Sally does go away.”
Full of this determination, she entered the
house, when the first thing that met her eyes
was Dorcas crying. She knew not what to
make of it, as the child appeared sullen, and
would not answer her repeated question of
“What is the matter?” Sally, too, preferred
to go before dinner, as she had to remove one
of her children that afternoon, and must find
her a place that morning; all of which served
for a very good excuse, seeing there was no
foundation in the story.
Once more was Mrs. Harley left with Dorcas.
Resolving to discuss the matter in the
evening with her husband, she went, as she
had premeditated, that very afternoon, and ordered
the salmon-coloured velvet dress to be
sent home, with the bill, and purchased some
very expensive lace for the trimming of the
dress.
Upon returning, she found her husband annoyed
that she had left the house, especially
as Dorcas had made no preparation for tea,
having little disposition to please, since Mrs.
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Hopkins had repeatedly told her she would
find her a better place. Just after Mrs. Harley's
entrance, the bell rang, and a boy left a
bundle: it was the dress and bill.
“Is it not beautiful, husband?” asked Mrs.
Harley, as she opened it; “the shade is divine!
How pretty it will light! and now the
next thing is to have it made. I must let these
house affairs go, and attend to it; it would be
a shame to have it spoiled.”
“My dear,” said Mr. Harley, “what shall
we have for tea?”
“Oh, dear! I am sure I don't know; let
Dorcas run and get a loaf of bread. Oh! this
everlasting din of cooking! I wish we were at
board.”
Mr. Harley had not yet found an opportunity
to tell his wife of a plan of his, she was
so much engaged in talking of her dress. It
was, to send to an adjoining town, where he
had a widowed aunt, who superintended a
gentleman's house, and see if he could persuade
her to take charge of his establishment.
Having at length disclosed his intention to his
wife, he found she did not altogether approve
of having a relation to take charge; still, in
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defiance of her judgment, he wrote, making the
offer to his aunt, and saying that a liberal compensation
would be most gladly allowed for
her aid.
Mrs. Harley's thoughts being wedded to
her dress and party, made her almost regardless
of these changes. She only wanted deficiencies
supplied, and accordingly sent a note
to the office, telling them to send her a cook
without delay. It happened that Dinah Johnson,
a coloured woman, who had been many
years in service, was waiting for a direction
at the time when Dorcas went in with the
note. She was accordingly despatched with
the little girl to Mrs. Harley's as a cook.
Dinah was a stout, healthy woman, without
much experience in cookery, but a good house-servant,
if watched; as proof of which, she had
lived, she said, “with good Master Cummings
fifteen years, till the day of his death.”
Mrs. Harley was much pleased with Dinah's
appearance, and gave her immediate charge
of the kitchen. Mr. Harley did not know but
that she would do as well as anybody. He
thought he would observe her, and, provided
she did well, would keep her. Dinah told her
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master she saw but one thing wanting—it was
a cooking-range. If she burned the meat, or
but half baked the bread, it was always because
she had been used to the range. So, to
remedy the insurmountable difficulties, a week
before the party a cooking-range was set.
Mr. Harley, in the mean time, received an
answer from his widowed aunt, saying that
she had laid the whole subject before Mr. Prout,
with whom she resided; and although he could
not think of parting from her entirely, yet she
could pass a month with her nephew, and, perhaps,
restore the order he wished.
Jethro Moody was now employed for the
sake of going on errands in preparation for
the party. But, to Mrs. Harley's utter astonishment,
the regrets came in much faster than
the acceptances. There was an excuse from
Colonel Lewis on account of “a previous engagement;”
Dr. Baxter pleaded “illness in his
family;” and numerous others “regretted it
was not in their power to accept Mrs. Harley's
polite invitation.” Chagrined beyond
measure, Mrs. Harley felt almost sorry she
had thought of giving a party. Nobody she
cared about would see her beautiful dress!
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Instead of appearing in it for the first time in
her own house, she resolved to wear it to Mrs.
Howe's on the sixteenth. If so few of the élite
were going to accept her invitation, and those
only came who she had hoped would decline,
she concluded not to feel so ambitious about
it, and not to urge Mr. Harley to give a more
splendid entertainment than other people. That
evening they were to decide what would be
necessary, as the men who took charge of the
whole were waiting for directions.
-- 091 -- p109-096
CHAPTER XI. DISCLOSURES.
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
“It will cost a great deal more than I anticipated
for our party,” said Mr. Harley, as
he enumerated the expense of the articles which
the waiters said would be necessary.
“Pray let me see what is on the list,” said
Mrs. Harley; “I hope they have put down
something uncommon; I do not want just what
everybody else has. We will observe Mrs.
Howe's table to-night, and if we can think of
any addition which will be an improvement,
we will have it.”
“Your ambition seems reviving,” observed
Mr. Harley.
“No wonder,” replied Mrs. Harley; “we
have finally succeeded in getting the Bentons.
You know what an air of gentility they give
to a party: they waltz splendidly; and, sure
as you are alive,” continued she, as she opened
a note just handed her, “here are the acceptances
of the Coles, who have just returned
-- 092 --
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from Paris: well, I am quite encouraged.
Now let me see the list of things to be procured—
oysters, ham, tongue, chicken for salad,
ice cream, blanc mange, jellies, candies,
Champagne, Hock, old Sherry—dear me! I
don't wish to read all these items; I should not
wonder if they amounted to nearly five hundred
dollars,” said Mrs. Harley, quite unconcernedly,
“for you know you have not included
the music and the lights: pray don't forget
any of these things: it will be as much as
I can do to get myself ready, without being
troubled about the house.”
Mr. Harley sighed as he looked at the amount
he had roughly calculated, whistled a low tune,
took his hat, and went to the store.
About ten the bell rang violently, and Mrs.
Harley, exceedingly impatient to know who
had accepted or rejected her invitations, not
thinking for a moment it could be any one else,
bade Dorcas run to the door, as Jethro was
probably engaged. Dorcas soon returned, saying
she left the man waiting for an answer.
Mrs. Harley hastily opened the paper, and discovered
the bill for groceries, amounting to the
small sum of two hundred and forty-three
-- 093 --
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dollars and fifty-six cents. Accompanying the bili
was the little book specifying the sundries.
Mrs. Harley glanced at the amount, and bade
Dorcas tell the lad that her husband would settle
it the next morning: she then laid it upon
her secretary, and gave herself no farther concern
about it.
Dinah managed affairs tolerably well, but
she found the kitchen utensils “shocking dirty,
and everything used up,” as she expressed
it; but, as Jethro was insinuating himself in
her good graces, she made the best of it, because,
she said, “her mistress, dear good lady,
was so full of the party, she hated to trouble
her till it was over.”
Mrs. Harley went out to procure a few little
things to wear to Mrs. Howe's, and engage
the hair-dresser. In the interval Mr. Harley
came home, and espying the folded bill, examined
it silently for some minutes. “Dorcas,”
said he, at last, “did you ever go to Plumer's,
the grocer, for Mrs. Hopkins?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Dorcas, “every day,
and sometimes two or three times a day.”
“And why did you go,” inquired Mr. Harley,
“without my knowledge? You know
you never did before that woman came here.”
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“Because, sir, she told me to, and I was obliged
to do as she bade me.”
Mr. Harley was obliged to check the warmth
of his temper, knowing the child was not so
much in fault, and taking up the book, began
to read over the articles specified. The source
from which their nice dinners came was discovered
now. He grew more furious still as
he found many things registered which he knew
never came to the table, but which must have
been consumed by the ravenous housekeeper
and her visiters. He regretted very much
that the book had not been sent before she was
dismissed. The truth was, it would not have
been sent at that time, but, since Mrs. Hopkins
had left, there had been a cessation of their demands,
and thinking this might be caused by
some pique of which he was ignorant, the grocer
thought it best to present the bill; as it
happened, it could not have been sent in a
worse time. Mr. Harley walked out of the
house, mortified, irritated, and self-condemned,
because he had not kept a more vigilant eye
over the manœuvring which had been carried
on with so high a hand for the last three months.
He returned late to dinner. The season had
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arrived when their heaviest payments became
due, and he had been disappointed in not being
able to raise money from sources which
had hitherto proved unfailing. To be obliged,
then, to pay debts which he never suspected
he owed, was a most galling circumstance.
For the hundredth time, he wished that his wife
would give her attention more to household
affairs. Perhaps Aunt Ruth would produce a
favourable change when she arrived. Full of
these reflections, he entered his house with
rather a desponding air, and seated himself
upon the sofa with his hand upon his head.
His wife came to him.
“Now, husband,” said she, “do cheer up; I
feel just in the mood to go to a party to-night.
My dress has come home, and it fits beautifully:
I rather think that it will be the handsomest
one there to-night; but I want some money
to pay the hair-dresser who is coming to
the house this afternoon. What is the matter?
Have you a headache, or are you sick of the
party?”
“Neither,” said Mr. Harley; “but I am
heart-sick, Mary. Our expenses are so numer
ous, we must contrive to reduce them, or we
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shall be ruined. I will try to get through with
this party, and then we must have some new
arrangements, or entirely abandon the idea of
keeping house at all.”
“And all this tirade, I suppose, is just because
I spoke of the hair-dresser,” said the unreflecting
wife. “As to the party, I am sure
you wanted it as much as I did; and unless
we can have things like other people, I don't
care whether we keep house or not. If you
had not looked so desponding, I meant to have
asked you to get a suit of damask curtains for
our parlours. Mrs. Gilbert says there will be
plenty of time to make them.”
“Don't, wife, ask for any more of these extravagances,
I entreat you: we must curtail
our expenses; we can do it, I know; we can
do with less help and less company, and I shall
expect you to oversee a little more.”
This was the most delicate hint he could
give to his wife, yet it greatly wounded her
feelings. She shed tears, said “she never expected
to drudge in kitchens nor look after servants;
she would like to break up house-keeping
that very day, if it were not for the party.”
Mr. Harley felt again disheartened. He
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began to fear lest he never should make his wife
understand her appropriate sphere. She had
so long been indulged in the exercise of her
taste, and devoted herself so exclusively to her
person, that all required beyond this narrow
sphere seemed to proceed from a design to
abridge her freedom. With these notions,
what improvement could be expected?
She went to the glass, wiped her eyes, and
sat down to the hair-dresser; and as she surveyed
herself in her new dress by a mirror
which reflected all her person, she turned to
her husband and exclaimed, “Is not this becoming?”
-- 098 -- p109-103
CHAPTER XII. THE PARTY.
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
The account at the grocer's remained unsettled;
there were so many demands for cash,
and the very fact of owing it being a proof
of such domestic mismanagement that Mr. Harley
could not endure to think of it.
Mrs. Howe's party was a splendid affair. It
gave Mrs. Harley new strength to encounter
her numerous vexations, because she felt it added
very much to one's happiness to have an
opportunity to make so public a display. She
really longed for her night to come. Mr. Harley,
too, although from different motives, said
“he should be thankful to say it was well over.”
We will pass by the intervening difficulties
which every day brought with it, together with
bad management in the kitchen, and trouble in
the nursery, and mistakes in the parlour, and
place ourselves in Mr. Harley's house on the
morning of the twenty-sixth of March.
Mrs. Harley rose an hour earlier than usual
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to have breakfast over, so that all might have
time to discharge their duties. By some misunderstanding,
the glass and china to be used
that night did not arrive till morning, and in
the hurry of washing and wiping, several valuable
articles were broken. The carpenter
came to fix up the ornaments for the side-lights,
and to plane the floors, while a man was waiting
to chalk out the figures, which were to be
obliterated in much less time than he was employed
in tracing them. Oysters were being
delivered at the back door, wines at the front.
Jethro was running in one direction, Dinah in
another. Beds were to be taken down, tables
to be arranged, lamps filled, and flowers put
into their vases: altogether, such a scene of
confusion presented itself, that Mrs. Harley,
half in desperation, sat herself down, and began
reading, for the fourth time, the list of acceptances
and refusals. While doing so, the
thought struck her that several were omitted
who ought to have been invited. However,
it was then too late to remedy the evil.
About nine the first carriage arrived, filled
with Mr. and Mrs. Barton and their two daughters,
the very people whom she had hoped
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would not come. Soon after came the Millers
and Rodmans—all very sensible people, yet
not so fashionable as was thought desirable by
Mrs. Harley. Then came a whole train too
numerous to mention: in short, out of three
hundred invited, two hundred actually came.
The furnace, having been replenished by Jethro,
who thought, as company was coming,
he must have a good fire, sent forth a most intense
heat, which, as the crowd thickened, became
insupportable. The windows were raised,
at the imminent danger of stiff necks, lame
shoulders, and severe colds, since no one could
dance in this heated atmosphere. The music,
which had been admirably selected, sounded
miserably, on account of the crowd.
About twelve there was a tremendous rush
to the supper-table. Blonde laces were torn,
dresses stepped upon, elbows protruded in vain
to force a passage, as not more than half the
guests could get a sight of Mrs. Harley's elegant
supper-table. On the whole, the entertainment
was pronounced a decided failure.
In an hour or two the people dispersed, and
Mr. and Mrs. Harley were left to their reflections,
which were not the most agreeable. Mr.
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[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]
Harley's were, that he had given a party which
cost him upward of three hundred dollars, and
that many of the company had had no opportunity
to see or taste what his bounty had provided.
Mrs. Harley looked sadly upon her dress,
on which some one had spilled a glass of wine,
which ruined it entirely. She felt heart-sick
herself, for she had observed the countenances
of some of the party, which expressed anything
but satisfaction. She could not but think that
it was a very heartless affair to visit in a crowd:
it was not worth half the trouble it occasioned.
Mr. Harley thought it was not worth half
the expense.
-- 102 -- p109-107
CHAPTER XIII AUNT RUTH.
[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]
The next day, Mr. Harley, having settled all
the bills for the preceding evening, took the
account which the grocer had presented, and
exhibited it to his wife, not knowing that she
had seen it, in the midst of her excitement
about the party. He gave her a full account
of what he considered to be the fraud of the
housekeeper, the duplicity of the cook, even
the secrecy of Dorcas, who knew she was
doing wrong at their instigation.
“I shall pay this bill,” continued he, “but it
will be the last time I shall be thus duped by
surrendering my rights to the care of an artful
housekeeper.” He then looked over the
items as they appeared in the book, and painful
as it was to Mrs. Harley, he requested her
to hear them. “Here,” observed he, “are butter,
flour, sugar, eggs, and a number of other
articles, which could not have been consumed
by us, as there was a full supply of these
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[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]
articles when those people came into the house.
It is shameful to suffer one's self to be so imposed
upon. What did they do with the firkins
and boxes these things came in?” asked
he of Dorcas, who was amusing Johnny; “I
never saw them.”
“They are in the lower cellar,” answered
Dorcas, “excepting what was split to kindle
the fire.”
Just at this time Aunt Ruth arrived. Mrs.
Harley received her with more cordiality than
she felt, having no very great desire that her
husband's aunt should witness such poor specimens
of housekeeping as would everywhere
meet her in the house. Mr. Harley was truly
delighted to see her.
Aunt Ruth was not one of your overbearing,
fault-finding managers, who assert that
“things ought to be done so and so,” but with
great gentleness she moved from one place to
another, directing here, and assisting there,
until she found all her aims accomplished.
She proceeded upon such a delightful and
easy system, that she seldom changed her
help unless they married or died; thus she had
acquired the reputation of being a “perfect
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[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]
mistress of a family.” To pass a few weeks
with her nephew at this time was no very
enviable situation; but, assuming no airs, and
feeling that she had come into the family for a
short time only, and for the express purpose of
making herself useful, she had a conversation
with Mr. Harley and his wife the very evening
she arrived, part of which I will narrate.
“I saw, William,” she began, “by the tenour
of your letter, that you were troubled with
faithless servants. Why is it I hear so much
about difficulties of this kind in this city? I
scarcely see a lady who does not tell me
some pitiful tale of her servants' prodigality,
want of order and system; of their faithlessness
when she is out; of their deceit or theft,
and sometimes of their intemperate habits.
To me all this is a perfect riddle, for I never
had such trials in my thirty-seven years, housekeeping.”
“Because you live in the country,” said
Mrs. Harley, “where servants are better than
they are here: they have no temptations to
do wrong there.”
“They fear to do it, more likely,” said Mr.
Harley, “under the eye of such a mistress.”
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“No, I think that is not all, William,” said
Aunt Ruth; “I think a part of the trouble results
from the employers as well as the employed.
Ladies are not sufficiently interested
in domestic life; they feel as though it were a
weight which they could throw off upon their
domestics. Their mothers have been unfaithful
in not requiring them to take a part in superintending
in their father's family before
they enter upon one of their own; and, consequently,
they feel as though it were a kind
of menial labour, unbecoming their station;
while the truth is, by this neglect they become
the servants of those whom they employ. I
have heard such people often laughed at by
the very help in whom they repose all their
confidence.”
“Well, for my part,” said Mrs. Harley, “I
do think it is perfect drudgery to oversee one's
affairs; besides, servants always detest those
bustling women who are forever looking after
them. I should have changed much oftener
than I have, had my eyes followed them about
their employment. Mrs. Hopkins, my last
housekeeper, used to say, `Keep yourself up
stairs, Mrs. Harley, and your help will do very
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[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]
well; but come down among them, and you
lose your dignity at once.”'
“Who made that remark, my dear?” inquired
Aunt Ruth, mildly.
“A designing, artful woman,” answered Mr.
Harley, without giving his wife time to speak;
“one to whom we intrusted everything, but
who abused our confidence, and whose artifices
I was just exposing to my wife as you
came in.” Here he gave her the particulars
of the grocer's account, and some other deceptions
he had discovered.
“But why,” said Aunt Ruth, “did you have
a housekeeper? Was Mrs. Harley ill, or did
she find the cares too great for her?”
“Neither,” said Mr. Harley; “I suppose she
found it fashionable to keep one for appearance'
sake. I am sure I saw no good she did. However,
I think we have both been taught by experience
that we had better be our own housekeepers.
I wish you would teach my wife
your system, for we are determined to begin
to live with less expense. Why, how much
do you suppose I have paid, Aunt Ruth, for
incidental expenses since January—or about
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twelve weeks—including fires, help, party, and
everything, excepting dress?”
Aunt Ruth hesitated: “She knew little of
city life,” she said; “but, supposing they had
not been very economical, perhaps their expenses
amounted to three hundred dollars.”
“Bless me,” said Mr. Harley, “it is more
than seven hundred!”
“Seven hundred!” repeated Aunt Ruth;
“why, you could buy a small farm for that
sum. It does appear to me that you might
save a good deal; indeed, I do not see how
you could spend so much.”
“La!” said Mrs. Harley, “some people
spend that sum in one evening for a party.
What is the use of having money, if it is all
hoarded, where it does no one any good?”
“Very true, Mary,” replied Aunt Ruth;
“but you know we are accountable for the
use we make of our wealth. It appears to
me that every one should set apart something
for the good of others; besides, we ought to
provide for the future, lest, by any accident,
we should be rendered incapable of activity
and farther accumulation. I had a neighbour
once, who lavished all she could obtain upon
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[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]
herself—dressed richly, and gave splendid entertainments—
yet was always excusing herself
from visiting the needy, because her time
was so fully occupied with her numerous
friends. At length her husband failed, and
they were obliged to sink into comparative
obscurity, deserted entirely by those butterfly
friends who had basked in her sunshine.”
“It is a pretty fair sample of the conduct of
worldly friends,” said Mr. Harley. “Mary
and I gave a party to some friends last night.
She spent her time and thoughts upon it for a
number of weeks, and to-day she has been in
the `horrors,' lest they saw something to be offended
or to laugh at.”
“Now, husband, don't say so; I have been
troubled because my dress, on which I expended
so much, is nearly ruined.”
“How much did it cost, dear?” inquired
Aunt Ruth.
“Let her guess, William,” said Mrs. Harley.
“Thirty dollars,” said Aunt Ruth, “if you
will set me to guessing.”
“It cost me fifty-six dollars,” replied Mrs.
Harley; “and if I had had my way in
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[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]
trimming it, it would have been seventy-five. However,
I am glad now I did not, for there was
such a crowd, it looked just as well plain.”
“Do not talk any more to me of such round
numbers,” said Aunt Ruth; “I shall be really
frightened, and think William will fail without
any doubt. I don't wonder he thinks of reducing
his expenses.”
“To be serious, aunt,” said Mr. Harley, “will
you lend us your assistance in this work of reform?
I have been examining my affairs lately,
and find I cannot, with safety, exceed two
thousand dollars a year. If I continue as we
have gone on this winter, ruin must ensue, and
if it is possible to avert it, I pray you to help
us before it is too late. I do not wish you to
labour, of course; but I have such a high opinion
of your system of housekeeping, that I wish
you would put it in practice here. And I shall
want you, Mary, to attend to Aunt Ruth, and
profit by every hint she gives, and try to follow
her example. We will begin to-morrow;
and first of all, we will send Jethro away; all
he does is to tease and laugh at Dinah.”
“Don't, Mr. Harley, turn him away till
the ladies have called who came to the party;
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[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]
he will be so prompt to attend to the door.
Everybody will think then that we keep a
man constantly,” cried Mrs. Harley.
“That will not add to my credit in the least,”
said Mr. Harley, “and I am determined to dismiss
him to-morrow. What do you say to it,
Aunt Ruth?”
“William,” said she, “I shall find myself
treading on delicate ground if I give my opinion
contrary to your wife's ideas; I am sure I
would not, for the world, interfere with her
rights, or injure her feelings.”
“If you will only see that things go on well
in the kitchen,” replied Mrs. Harley, “I will
engage not to take offence—only don't make
me a drudge.”
“Certainly not,” said the kind aunt; “no
lady deserves that appellation because she
oversees her own affairs. I recollect a remark
of an eminent divine, which struck me when I
read it: `Economy is the order of the universe:
no woman should think it beneath her
to follow in her household the rule which governs
the operations of Providence.”'
“But does it not involve one in a great deal
of care and anxiety?” inquired Mrs. Harley.
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[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]
“You know I have not much time to give to
domestic concerns, as John requires so much
care. Besides, ladies must go out a great deal,
and be dressed to receive company: how can
they do all this and work?”
“My dear, you confound all good management
with labour: this is not correct. You
can go to your kitchen after breakfast, take a
survey of things, direct what shall be done,
give orders about your dinner, and if your servants
are faithful and capable, they will execute
your directions. If not, you have an opportunity
of discovering it; but if you are never
seen in your kitchen, they become careless
and indifferent like yourself.”
“You see, my dear, that is good reasoning,”
said Mr. Harley. “Now, to please me, I wish
you to begin to-morrow, and try what you can
do. I will provide just as many servants as
you wish, if you will see they are properly
employed.”
Mrs. Harley yawned, gave a kind of assent,
and here the conversation ended for the night.
-- 112 -- p109-117
CHAPTER XIV. REFORMS.
[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]
It is a wise decree, that all who spend their
early years in fashionable dissipation should
suffer a just retribution for such conduct. This
never fails to be perceived when a woman becomes
mistress of a family; the ennui and lassitude
which follow in the train of such a
course cannot be overcome, unless the responsibilities
of the office awaken a new energy,
and give a fresh impulse to the character.
We have already seen the ruinous effects of
this fashionable mania. The folly of intrusting
to others the duties which a wise Providence
designed as a wholesome discipline to
ourselves, the slavery it engenders, the weakness
it fosters, and the debasing influence it
exerts upon the immortal mind, which can only
strengthen itself by vigorous exertion.
But, it may be asked, cannot we retrieve
such a character from this thraldom, if we
arouse it to see the waste of its powers? I
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[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]
would fain speak in the tone of encouragement,
for we have noble instances of such
emancipation. Still, I would caution mothers
not to trust to this uncertain result; for, although
a person, fortified by strong principles,
may redeem much of the evil of the past, yet
what can efface the consciousness that the best
period of life has been misused? Tears will
not wear away the impression, regrets cannot
justify such a course.
We shall see how it operated in the instance
of Mrs. Harley.
Aunt Ruth, as we before intimated, was to
take charge of the family while she remained,
and, if possible, bring about a better order in
its affairs. She rose early the next morning,
as was her uniform custom, and finding no one
stirring in the house, rapped upon Dinah's
door, and inquired “if she had overslept herself.”
“Oh no, ma'am,” was the answer; “but Mrs.
Harley bade me not be over-particular in getting
up too soon, and that dog of a Jethro kept
me so late last night, that I thought I would
lie a little longer.” However, she roused herself
at Aunt Ruth's mild request, and called
-- 114 --
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Dorcas, who, not approving of this innovation,
rose sullen and ill-natured.
Aunt Ruth proceeded to the kitchen, and
thought she would watch Dinah's progress in
preparing breakfast without attempting any
dictation. She could not but observe gross
defects everywhere. The bread had not risen,
Dinah having confessed that she forgot the
yeast; the water did not boil when she poured
it on the coffee, and the whole appearance of
the kitchen and all the cooking utensils was
dirty in the extreme. The coal was burning
dimly in the range, and Aunt Ruth did not
wonder that her nephew wished some new
management. She cast a glance into the closet,
and there were piles of washed and unwashed
dishes, with fragments of bread, meat, and potatoes
rolling off the plates; wrecks of crockery,
which indicated that there had once been
a large supply of useful things; while dust, dirt,
empty boxes, and dull tinware made up the
remainder. She opened but one stone jar: it
was filled with mouldy crusts, which apparently
were put there long before Dinah came.
She went to the cold and cheerless parlour,
where Dorcas was bedimming, not
-- 115 --
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brightening, an Olmstead stove: as a proof of her neatness,
she was rubbing it with her clean checked
apron. Having done this, and made a sort
of an apology for a fire, she proceeded to lay
the table for breakfast. This she did by putting
on the cloth askew, dusting the waiter
with the same apron she had used before, and
putting on one thing at a time; all of which
Aunt Ruth observed without comment, as she
wished to be a spectator, so as to know better
where to apply the reforming principle.
Mr. Harley rose in season for breakfast, and
so did little John: Mrs. Harley, not having recovered
from the fatigues of the party, begged
to be indulged in a morning nap. The reader
can imagine the flavour of such a breakfast;
yet, as it was a fair specimen of Dinah's management,
Mr. Harley offered no excuse to his
aunt. They resumed the conversation of the
past evening, and it being obvious to his kind
aunt that a sweeping reformation was needed—
that Dinah would not do for a cook, nor Jethro
for a footman, nor Dorcas for an errand girl,
unless she could be very much improved—she
agreed, with Mr. Harley's consent, to commence
her operations that very day. This
-- 116 --
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she did with full confidence in her own powers,
yet with a kind of shrinking delicacy, as
she knew her path must be rather complicated
before a perfect system could succeed. Mr.
Harley lent his aid and dismissed Jethro, which
not pleasing Dinah, made her very refractory
under her new mistress; and Aunt Ruth, finding
“soft answers” sometimes failed in turning
away wrath, told her that, as the care devolved
now upon her to superintend, she would
dispense with her services that afternoon. It
was her maxim that “poor help was generally
worse than none;” and as the introduction of a
new mistress is often the cause of the removal
of the domestics, the change was not to be
wondered at.
We will now take a survey of the new arrangements
one week after Aunt Ruth had
been busily employed in putting things to
rights. She did not require Mrs. Harley to
give her any assistance in the kitchen until she
had revolutionized the whole face of affairs,
or, in her language, “had seen that the house
was thoroughly clean from the garret to the
cellar.” This she did most faithfully, with the
aid of a woman who was hired daily, to do
-- 117 --
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whatever she was bade. While this process
was going on, the reader will anticipate the
greatest tumult; but it was not so: Aunt Ruth
quietly took room by room, and thus showed
her good management, instead of putting the
whole house in an uproar at once. She then
requested her nephew and his wife to go with
her over the house, and see if everything was
arranged as they wished. It is needless to add
that no fault could be found.
A change was also manifested in the culinary
department. Mr. Harley could not comprehend
why he was not every day obliged to
go to market, while he saw, with astonishment,
that his food was far more palatable and wholesome
than it ever had been before, even in the
luxurious days when Mrs. Hopkins was housekeeper.
Mrs. Harley did not think the cooking
was so rich, but acknowledged that it
tasted better.
One day, after partaking a finely-cooked
dinner, Mr. Harley said to his wife, “I hope,
my dear, you do not fail to take daily lessons
while Aunt Ruth is with us. You must remember,
we cannot hope to retain her a great
-- 118 --
[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]
while, and it is incumbent on you to improve
this present opportunity.”
“Oh!” carelessly replied Mrs. Harley, “we
are to have a girl she has had under her training
when she leaves; aunt has kindly promised
to give her up, and says she knows the
girl will be glad to come.”
“I said, my dear,” replied Aunt Ruth, “if
you would first learn to direct her, I thought
she would make you an excellent servant; but
you have not been in the kitchen with me yet:
when shall I see you begin to learn?”
“Not this week,” exclaimed Mrs. Harley,
“for you know I am expecting many ladies
to call: those who refused, as well as those
who accepted my invitations, will be here this
week, and I must be dressed to see them.”
“Not early in the morning, Mary,” said
Mr. Harley. “You can go down a little while
every day, and yet be dressed seasonably.”
“La! Mr. Harley, Aunt Ruth can leave me
a few written receipts when she goes, and,
with the aid of those and a good cook, I can
direct that good girl as well as if I knew how
myself. There is no need of my remembering,
or trying to remember, all the approved
-- 119 --
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methods of doing this thing or that: it would take
me a lifetime.”
Thus reasoned the flighty wife: so little interested
was she in the pleasant effects of good
housekeeping. Yet, nevertheless, in compliance
with her husband's wishes, she did proceed,
by slow and imperceptible degrees, to
feel a little interest in Aunt Ruth's proceedings
before the week was completed. She
promised Mr. Harley to give it more attention
after the calls were finished.
-- 120 -- p109-125
CHAPTER XV. THE RESULTS OF A FASHIONABLE PARTY.
[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]
In truth, it was rather a difficult matter for
Mrs. Harley to commence learning domestic
arts at that time. The house was so thronged
with company from one o'clock to three every
day, it could not fail to have a dissipating influence
upon the mind; besides, there were
other vexations; for who ever gave a party
without offending some one who claimed to be
considered their friends? Mrs. Harley was
very unfortunate in this respect. There were
the Carters, whom she had entirely forgotten,
and they had been loudly declaiming against
such a direct slight; and old Mrs. James told
Mrs. Gerrish “she should as soon have
thought of having been neglected by her own
daughters, for she had always been like a
mother to Mrs. Harley.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hatch, former friends of Mrs.
Harley's mother, told Emma “they should never
call again; for if they were not
-- 121 --
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acknowledged as friends in public, they should not try
to be in private;” while, to make the matter
worse, Emma added, “I am very sorry, dear
Mary, for you, it makes you so liable to censure;
for, between ourselves, do you know
you committed an unpardonable error in not
inviting Sister Billings?”
“You don't tell me she is offended!” cried
Mrs. Harley; “why, I would rather have lost
half my acquaintances than her friendship, she
is so sensible and agreeable; but I thought she
never attended large parties. I am sorry—
very sorry. How can I atone for it, Emma?”
Say nothing about it, for pity's sake,” said
Emma. “It only makes a bad matter worse
to tell a friend you forgot her. If you had
only let me have seen your list, I should have
added several others. You omitted the Paines:
they ought, by all rules of courtesy, to have
been invited.”
“But you know,” answered Mrs. Harley,
“they are in deep mourning. Surely they
would not have accepted.”
“Never mind that, my dear; they ought to
have been invited.”
Poor Mrs. Harley was again heart-sick. She
-- 122 --
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could not discover that her party delighted any
one who came, while it made bitter enemies
of those she had forgotten. In the midst of
these reflections, Colonel Morton entered.
“I regretted,” said he, very politely, “that I
could not attend your party, Mrs. Harley. I
have been informed there was a brilliant assemblage,
and I hear Miss Tilman was the belle
of the evening. But do tell me why Mr. Morlay
was not here?”
Mrs. Harley blushed, and frankly owned that
till that moment she had entirely forgotten him
as much as if he never were in existence.
“Well, I dare say,” observed the colonel,
with his usual pleasant manner, “you can make
it all right with him. You must make another
party, and invite all the disaffected ones to
come together.”
The very thought of that made Mrs. Harley
shudder. Everything was continued in
the same quiet comfort as when Aunt Ruth
first restored it. She had a temporary servant
till Marianne, of whom we spoke before,
could come, which was not until the company
had ceased calling; for her former mistress
wisely judged that so many people would
-- 123 --
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dishearten her at once, since it took Dorcas nearly
all the time to answer the door-bell. She
had found Mrs. Harley apparently willing to
go in her kitchen a little while every morning;
still, she noticed that her appearance was dejected
and unhappy. She mentioned it to her
nephew, but he concluded it was only because
she felt her incompetency, and was satisfied it
would soon wear off.
Going suddenly in the room one morning,
Aunt Ruth found Mrs. Harley in tears. She
was arranging her little boy's hair, and evidently
trying to conceal some hidden grief.
With characteristic kindness, Aunt Ruth begged
her to confide to her her troubles. “I am
afraid,” said she, “you are not pleased with
the part I have taken in your house: perhaps
you think I have been too officious, or that I
impose too much upon you?”
“Oh no, it is nothing of that kind,” exclaimed
Mrs. Harley, earnestly. “To tell you the simple
truth, aunt, I am mortified to death about
that party I gave. There are so many unpleasant
things which conspire to vex me, and
it is so provoking, too, after one has exhausted
so much time, and spent so much money, to
-- 124 --
[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]
find we derive so little real enjoyment from it.
Do tell me, were you ever so treated?”
“No, my dear, not exactly. I never gave
such kind of parties. We used to meet socially
to drink tea when I was keeping house for
myself, but in those days we seldom gave
splendid entertainments; our incomes would
not admit of it. It was a maxim of my husband's,
that “slow gains must be slowly spent:”
but I really think we enjoyed a great deal more
in those times, when we went visiting early,
and returned by nine in the evening. I never
heard such remarks then as I do now. Every
one knew their friends, and felt confidence in
them. But come, Mary, cheer up; if this is
all that troubles you, I see no occasion for
tears; besides, it is all over now, and if you
have done wrong once, try and do better next
time.”
“But, aunt, I begin to feel that there is no
pleasure in the kind of life I lead.”
What an honest confession! There is no
pleasure in empty ceremony, formal parade,
and idle display! How often would this cry
be echoed from the hearts of the merely fashionable,
if they would but declare their real
sentiments!
-- 125 -- p109-130
CHAPTER XVI. PROGRESS IN REFORMS.
[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]
Being thoroughly impressed with the conviction
that it was but a heartless business to
be the devotee of fashion, Mrs. Harley now
turned her attention to the performance of duties;
and although the task was sometimes
hard, and occasionally a little wearisome, yet
it was seldom she complained of the burden,
feeling grateful for the kindness of her teacher.
The calls were ended, and Mr. Harley's
family experienced the comfortable, rational
enjoyment which springs from a well-regulated
home. Marianne entered willingly upon
her duties; little Dorcas, taught by Aunt Ruth,
had learned to know her place, and Mrs. Harley
began to awake to the responsibilities which
devolved upon her. Once enlightened, our path
becomes clear, and the performance of one
duty paves the way to the fulfilment of others.
Little John, hitherto neglected and intrusted
to the care of servants, began to lisp “naughty
-- 126 --
[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]
words,” besides showing a headstrong temper,
which, having been once suffered to obtain the
mastery, was found very difficult to subdue.
Mr. Harley, feeling his own inefficiency, sought
the aid he needed from treatises on family government,
while his wife was busily employed
in providing for his mere external wants.
How true it is, that when once the wants
and gratifications of the body become an allabsorbing
theme, it requires almost superhuman
energy to change the current of our
thoughts and desires. Aunt Ruth, as I have
before intimated, was actuated by principle in
all her schemes for temporal advantage to her
friends. As proof of it, she very mildly asked
her nephew one evening, as they were gathered
round the centre table, “If he did not think
many useful admonitions and directions in family
government might be gathered from the
Bible?”
The idea struck him strangely, and he very
frankly answered that he had not read the
Bible much since he was a boy; “For my
father,” said he, “always made it a standing
rule that I should read a chapter to him every
morning, and it being then an irksome task,
-- 127 --
[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]
and a mere mechanical effort, I suppose an
indifference was thus acquired, which I have
not been able to conquer since; though,” added
he, “I generally read a chapter or two on
the Sabbath.” Then turning a significant look
to his wife, “Mary reads the newspapers on
Sunday.”
Aunt Ruth inquired “if they generally attended
church.”
“We go,” replied Mr. Harley, “in the morning;
then I take a turn in the news-room, and,
after dinner, generally sleep a short time.”
“Has Dorcas ever been to a Sunday-school?”
asked Aunt Ruth.
“Not since she has been with me,” said Mrs.
Harley. “I believe she used to go, or be
taught by her weekly teacher; for when she
first came she used to say her prayers and
some hymns before she went to sleep, Mrs.
Hopkins said; but I rather think she was not
much encouraged by her in any good thing.”
“I think it a great responsibility to take
charge of such a child as Dorcas,” observed
Aunt Ruth. “If such children have good principles
early instilled in their mind, it affords the
best security for the faithful performance of
-- 128 --
[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]
their duties. Perhaps, William, you remember
Ellen Read, who married a carpenter of
the name of Mason. When she first came to
live with me, she was as ill-tempered and unmanageable
a child as you can conceive. She
seemed to delight in deceit and mischief. I
made it my business to cultivate all her good
feelings. I read to her lessons on forbearance
and forgiveness, and often expatiated on the
golden rule; then I taught her little prayers,
and finally succeeded in making her ashamed,
as well as afraid, to do wrong. You cannot
conceive what a change was wrought in her
character in one year. This was before Sunday-schools
were established: now you can
have a great deal of assistance from these; but,
after all, we must help sow the good seed, for
we cannot expect the work to be begun and
completed by others.”
These and similar hints, often reiterated by
their kind aunt with perfect good nature, led
the way to more important changes, to which
her conduct also contributed, for nothing renders
goodness so attractive as the living example.
As an evidence that these well-timed
hints were not lost, rather late in the spring,
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[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]
when Aunt Ruth had gone home, an invitation
to Mrs. Gerrish's was received by Mrs. Harley.
She consulted with her husband about
going. “For my part,” said she, “since I have
fairly settled down to these family cares, and
enjoyments too, I have lost nearly all my relish
for parties. I was thoroughly cured by
giving one.”
“If that be the case,” replied her husband,
“we may call it a pretty profitable party, after
all. I am sure, if you have no wish to accept
Mrs. Gerrish's invitation, neither have I: we
shall only put ourselves under fresh obligations;
but if we give up going to these large
parties, of course no one will expect us to give
one. We are much happier at home, I am
sure.”
“I begin to think so too, my dear,” said
Mrs. Harley; “I have been vexed with myself
a hundred times that I paid so much for that
velvet dress, which was so soon ruined. If I
went to Mrs. Gerrish's, I should, of course, be
obliged to have a new one; and, since Aunt
Ruth was here, somehow or other, I don't care
much about such things, she impressed me so
-- 130 --
[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]
strongly with the folly of permitting them to
engross my whole time.”
“But what excuse shall we write?” asked
Mr. Harley.
“Not any, William. I will call and see
Mrs. Gerrish, and explain it all to her: that
we have adopted a new style of living, in consequence
of finding that we cannot afford to
give large parties, and so, of course, I shall not
attend them; and, more than all, that I have
lost my relish for them, in a great measure.”
The next day Mrs. Harley told her husband
that Mrs. Gerrish had replied tauntingly to her
excuses, by saying, “She did not wonder at
her choice, as Mrs. Harley had offended so
many when she gave her party.” “So you
see,” added Mrs. Harley, “these fashionable
friends are worth just as much as Aunt Ruth
said.”
By steady but somewhat difficult steps in
the commencement, Mrs. Harley proceeded in
redeeming the past time; but never did a week
go by that she did not find some relic of her
former self which she had not shaken off. So
closely do our follies cleave to us when one
they have gained the mastery.
-- 131 -- p109-136
CHAPTER XVII. THE VISIT TO AUNT RUTH.
[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]
At midsummer Mrs. Harley, with her little
boy and Dorcas, made their promised visit to
Aunt Ruth, leaving the faithful Marianne in
charge of the house. Mr. Harley took this
opportunity to go South. No pains were spared
by the kind aunt to make this a profitable visit.
We subjoin a letter which Mrs. Harley wrote
to her husband, giving an account of it.
“My dear William—Your earthly treasures
(that is, little John and myself) are running
wild in these Elysian fields. Escaped
from the din and tumult of the ctiy, it is so reviving
to breathe the pure air of this healthful
region, that the principal part of my conversation
is to tell all the kind people whom I see
here how delighted I am with the change, and
how happy they must be who enjoy it all the
time; to which Aunt Ruth generally replies,
`Those who make the change are the people
who are alive to its benefits; while those who
-- 132 --
[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]
always live amid such beauty become indifferent
spectators.'
“By-the-by, William, what do you think I
am doing? I am learning to make puddings,
pastry, and bread! What I once thought such
a drudgery now makes every day pass pleasantly.
It would do you good to see what I
am called to witness every day; such regularity
and admirable system are enough to induce
every one to inquire how they can be produced.
There are but two servants, and there
are, including ourselves, thirteen in the family;
yet there does not seem to be more than they
can easily perform.
“We rise early (no morning naps are allowed
here), and although it was rather difficult
for me at first, yet, as Aunt Ruth prophesied, I
do feel better for it now that I am accustomed
to it. Good Mr. Brant has family prayers, at
which we all assemble before we enter upon
the duties of the day—then every one, knowing
his own share of the work, goes about
it cheerfully: we never hear any fretting, nor
the odious exclamation, `That doesn't belong
to me to do!' Our living is plain and simple,
but the flavour of the food would seem
-- 133 --
[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]
delicious to an epicure. I am giving up the idea
that a receipt-book is as good as experience.
“But I do very much regret that I did not
acquire this knowledge a little earlier; how
much trouble it would have saved us! I feel
vexed with myself that I could be so indifferent;
but, having never been taught, I was an
easy dupe.
“Everything here is turned to good account;
for when there is anything we do not need, a
worthy but poor family near us are the recipients
of Aunt Ruth's bounty. Am I not in the
right kind of school, William? What say
you to permitting Marianne to visit her friends,
and letting me remain here a month or so?
Should you return in the mean time, you can
come out morning and evening.
“Our Sabbaths here are delightful. I attend
church all day (no headaches now), and after
our return Mr. Brant carries out the topic on
which the minister preached in all its practical
bearings. He is not a severe, exclusive
man, but one whose religion is like a cheerful
sunshine, irradiating all upon whom its rays
fall. He has taken a great fancy to Johnny,
which is fully reciprocated by the charming
-- 134 --
[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]
little fellow, who yet fears him as much as he
loves him. He, too, is greatly improving under
these influences. He can wait now when
he is at the table, without crying for first attentions,
as he formerly did.
“Dorcas has become a real help. She is
quick, respectful, and willing to do as she is
bid; loves her Sunday-school teacher here
very much, and, Aunt Ruth says, appears to
be actuated by right principles.
“I hope you will accede to the proposal I
have made, and come here for a few days, to
witness for yourself what I have so inadequately
described.
“Poor Mrs. Gerrish! You have heard or
her husband's failure, I suppose? I hear they
are going to break up housekeeping. What
will her fashionable friends say? I am glad I
am no longer one of the number, for I should
be doomed to hear so many unkind remarks
from those for whose approbation she expended
so much time and money. Of course
I shall call on her as soon as I return, and
will endeavour now to prove myself a real
friend.
“My friend Emma is at the Springs for her
-- 135 --
[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]
health, and, it is said, intends to give a splendid
party early in the season. With what little
interest do I now hear such reports! I, who
was the veriest slave of fashion, have learned
to glory in my release from its vexatious and
heartless customs; but, for fear lest I am
not yet wholly emancipated from its bondage,
I intend not to place myself in the way of
temptation, by attending any of these grand
entertainments.
“Pray, William, do not make yourself ill by
over-exertion. My heart is with you in tenderest
affection till we meet again.
“Yours devotedly,
“Mary.”
Mr. Harley, finding it for his advantage to
go farther South, and thus prolong his absence,
acceded gladly to his wife's request; adding,
“The pleasant, healthful tone of her last letter,
made him promise himself many days of domestic
happiness.” But, that we are prone to
flatter ourselves, and rejoice when on the
verge of misfortune, Mrs. Harley's next letter
gave ample evidence.
-- 136 -- p109-141
CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION.
[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]
“Dear Husband—When I last wrote, the
full tide of happiness seemed flowing in upon
me on every side; but alas! the change. Johnny,
the day after I wrote you, was taken ill,
and has continued so ever since. His disease
the doctor pronounces to be the scarlet fever.
To-day he is a little better; and while he is
sleeping, I have taken my writing-desk to his
bedside, that I may be ready to note any alteration.
“As painful, William, as was our separation,
and as much as I regret your absence (rendered
tenfold more trying by our child's illness),
I have reason to rejoice that I am here.
Our ministering angel, your good aunt, has
been my nurse, companion, and friend—in short,
everything to me. All the family have been
unwearied in their kindness and attention.
“You know how unaccustomed I have been
to sickness—how ready I always was to intrust
the care of Johny, when an infant, to a nurse,
-- 137 --
[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]
that I might shine in the assembly or grace a
party. Now I fear that my hour of retribution
has come. How often, since our little darling
has been so ill, have I prayed that such folly
might be forgiven me. Of all sins, it now appears
to me that those of a careless mother
are the most reprehensible. Dorcas tells me
the nurse used to give him stuff out of a vial
to make him sleep when I was out late, and
she brought me one of them, which she had
been using as an ink-bottle, labelled Paregoric.
Can I ever forgive myself such neglect? If
his life is only spared, never will I be again so
heedless.
“We are uniting in devising means for his
relief: sympathy is expressed by every member
of the family; and such quietness reigns
in the house, you would think it almost deserted,
so cautiously do these well-trained domestics
avoid the additional pain which noise produces.
If we are all spared to meet again,
shall I put in practice what I am so deeply
charmed with here?
“Our good minister has called: from the
tenour of his remarks, I fear he thinks Johny
-- 138 --
[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]
will not recover. He seems better to me, but
whether I am deceiving myself or not, time
will determine. Amid all these proofs of sympathy,
how much, William, I feel the need of
yours?”
Here the letter was suddenly broken off.
In a day or two after, however, it was continued
as follows:
“Afternoon
“Our child has now passed the crisis of his
disease, and is pronounced out of danger. We
can never repay the unwearied kindness of
Aunt Ruth. Above all, let our gratitude ascend
to the Preserver of our lives.”
That the feelings thus excited by sickness
and other subduing influences were never lost,
we have proof in the altered character of Mrs.
Harley when she resumed the charge of her
own family. A new field opened before her,
and she resolved to acquit herself in it with
the true dignity belonging to the responsible
station of mistress of a family. She commenced
upon the only sure plan to ensure its continuance,
and that was, by adopting firm, steady,
-- 139 --
[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]
and unwavering principle for the guide of all
her actions.
She now, prompted by pleasure as well as
duty, gave all necessary attention to her affairs,
and succeeded so well, simply with the
assistance of Dorcas and Marianne, that Mr.
Harley said his expenses would not exceed his
income, including in his estimate the cost of
the party and of their wardrobe. And it was
acknowledged, even by her fashionable friends,
that Mrs. Harley dressed with elegant simplicity.
They became quite celebrated, too, for
their delightful little parties, which were characterized
by liberality without useless profusion.
It is not to be supposed that Mrs. Harley
dropped all her fashionable friends, but those
only who showed no wish to continue the acquaintance
on her present plan of life. She
retained all those whose opinion was worth
regarding, and they rejoiced to find her improving;
for, though she had laid aside the
gaudy trappings which had sometimes adorned
her person, and made her appear superficial,
she developed those mental and moral graces
-- 140 --
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which give a charm to conversation, and all
who pretended to any literary acquirements
felt her new charms attract them more powerfully.
Of her own experience since the change,
her last letter to Aunt Ruth will give us the
particulars.
“Dear Aunt—You very good-naturedly
ask me how I like the change from my former
mode of living. I will frankly tell you, that it
scarcely admits a comparison. I blush to recall
my former imbecility, and often wonder
at the long suffering of my friends, and of
William in particular—that he should chide so
little when he felt so much!
“I believe I never told you to what cause I
attributed the superficial mode of thinking I
once indulged. When I first entered the
world, or `came out,' as the phrase is, I was
too much flattered. I was literally surfeited
by the praise of my charms. These I magnified
and dwelt upon until I was weak enough
to believe them all-sufficient.
“When not attending parties, I compensated
for the loss of that kind of excitement by
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reading novels. Viewing life through this false
mirror, I became disgusted with the real, except
when it accorded with my disordered,
dreamy imagination; and when I was married,
I resolved that no domestic ties should
sever me from my favourite amusements.
“My kitchen was of course beneath my notice,
provided my wants could be supplied;
the improvidence of the servants did not disturb
me at all, my main object being to move
in the fashionable world. And yet that life
now appears to me, as I reflect upon it, the
most unenviable. I was continually tormenting
myself about trifles. If a house was furnished
more fashionably than my own, if my
acquaintances were more richly dressed, I
would worry myself and William about it till
I obtained his consent to similar extravagance.
This made me a restless, unhappy being; for
who that becomes such a slave does not see
something to covet which another possesses?
“Just before your timely visit, you remember,
I gave my long-talked-of party, the unhappy
effects of which I feel to this day; for,
in my desire to include new friends, I forgot
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the rules of true politeness, and excluded some
old ones, whose forfeited friendship I shall ever
regret.
“At that time you came. How I received
you, you well know. Escaped from the prodigality
of the housekeeper, and vexed with domestics
who repaid my want of interest in
them by feeling none for me, it appeared to
me that you had stepped in to be a witness
against me to my already irritated husband.
How I misjudged you! You seem to me now
to have been `an angel sent on an errand of
mercy,' an instrument to enlighten me, and, I
trust, save me.
“Now I look upon the past as time wasted
and misused, and feel that I have need to redouble
my diligence to atone in part for manifold
defects. My duties are now my pleasures.
The responsibilities of a wife and mother
are viewed, I trust, as a Christian should regard
them.
“I have laid aside my novels, and give my
leisure to those more profitable books which
enlighten the understanding and improve the
heart. I devote to my child and my husband
those evenings I once frittered away in the gay
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assembly, and william bids me add that, as
you made your first visit when we were only
`Keeping House,' he desires you to come and
find us `House Keeping.'
“Your affectionate niece,
“Marry Harley.”
THE END.
Back matter
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Hale, Sarah Josepha Buell, 1788-1879 [1845], Keeping house and housekeeping: a story of domestic life (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf109].
